the meal, then entered amid loud acclamations, her arms
full of bottles, and we drank to "La France" in Bordeaux of the color
of a ruby.

The table was set with wooden-handled knives and forks, as no others
remained, and was lighted by candles set in bottles and broken
candlesticks; no gas, electricity, or kerosene having survived the
invasion. The French aviators had in their possession five spiked
helmets which they had taken as trophies from the heads of dead
Germans. It was suggested that since all ordinary means of lighting
had been destroyed by these same Germans, their casques might
fittingly be used as candlesticks, and each bear a taper upon its
point. This suggestion was about to be put into effect when M. Guyot,
whose business had been so recently ruined and whose house had been
ruthlessly pillaged by these invaders, quietly made objection and said
that it was not fitting or proper that the headgear of fallen soldiers
should be used as candelabra.

* * * * *

_Monday, September 14th._ One's respect and affection for horses is
greatly increased after seeing them in war. They are there so
essentially necessary. They share so patiently and faithfully on
almost equal terms the good and ill fortune of the men; they work with
their masters, go into battle with them, and the two die side by
side, killed by the same shell. It is a stirring example of unity to
see men and horses straining and striving and pulling together to get
a gun out of difficulties. The horses do not understand what it is all
about and going to war was not of their choice, but the same things
may usually be said of the men beside whom they live and die.

The feeling which the French soldiers on the firing-line have for the
Germans is very different from the bitterness one finds in the
civilian population of France. We have heard more than one French
soldier say in a voice tinged with admiration, "Ah, ce sont de bons
soldats!" At the front and in the trenches one gets down to basic
principles and realizes that "the other man" is a fellow human being
and not something with horns and a forked tail. The French soldier is
grimly determined to go through the war to the bitter end and to
accept nothing short of a complete victory, but at the same time he
realizes that this mutual slaughter is indeed a sorry business. I
shall never forget the face of a serious French Territorial soldier of
forty with whom I spoke toda