ong--years have been battering at the bulwarks
of civilization. I hear them, as I utter these words, and I look into
the faces of a little group of Americans who, day after day, and week
after week" (increasing emphasis) "have been facing those guns for the
honor and glory of democratic institutions" (rising inflection).

"We in America have heard them, faintly, perhaps, yet unmistakably,
and now I come to tell you, in the words of that glorious old war
song, 'We are coming, Father Woodrow, ONE HUN-DRED MIL-LION strong!'"

We listen through to the end, and Lieutenant Talbott, in his official
capacity, begins to applaud. The rest of us join in timidly,
self-consciously. I am surprised to find how awkwardly we do it. We
have almost forgotten how to clap our hands! My sense of the spirit of
place changes suddenly. I am in America. I am my old self there, with
different thoughts, different emotions. I see everything from my old
point of view. I am like a man who has forgotten his identity. I do
not recover my old, or, better, my new one, until our guests have
gone.

* * * * *

FROM A LETTER RECEIVED IN BOSTON, OCTOBER 1, 1918

OFFIZIERS-KRIEGSGEFANGENEN LAGER,
KARLSRUHE, BADEN, DEUTSCHLAND
_July 27, 1918_

I've been wondering about the ultimate fate of my poor old "High
Adventure" story, whether it was published without those long promised
concluding chapters which I really should have sent on had I not had
the misfortune to be taken prisoner. I hope the book has been
published, incomplete as it is. Not that I am particularly proud of
it as a piece of literature!

I told you briefly, on my card, how I happened to be taken prisoner.
We were a patrol of three and attacked a German formation at some
distance behind their lines. I was diving vertically on an Albatross
when my upper right plane gave way under the strain. Fortunately, the
structure of the wing did not break. It was only the fabric covering
it, which ripped off in great strips. I immediately turned toward our
lines and should have reached them, I believe, even in my crippled
condition; but by that time I was very low and under a heavy fire from
the ground. A German anti-air craft battery made a direct hit on my
motor. It was a terrific smash and almost knocked the motor out of the
frame. My machine went down in a spin