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W

The Little French Woman

By Lyle Wolf

E GERMANS had nearly captured Verdun. For several days we had bombarded the fort. My ears ached from the deafening roar of the canons. By a series of charges we had been able to take the first few French trenches. We had suffered great loss, but were confident of success. Then came our last charge. The cannonading ceased, and word was passed along the lines to be ready. The call was given, and we jumped from our trenches and dashed towards the French. With terrifying, buzzing bullets whizzed past me, my

mrades fell groaning on all sides. I, myself, was severely wounded in the shoulder before I had gone twenty feet. I was obliged to fall out of the charge, as I was suffering from loss of blood. But the rest rushed on until they were about thirty feet from the last French trench, when the French rose, and with lowered bayonets, swooped down upon our men. We

were forced to retreat.

I closed my eyes and awaited my fate. I could not crawl to our trenches -and I well knew what would happen to me if I were found by the French. Finally one of my trench mates came to my aid, and with his help I reached our lines. The French came on, and we were driven out of all the trenches that we had gained, before they could. be checked.

All that night I lay in the trench, cold and faint. With the little medicine I had, I washed and bound my wound. All around me were men, some dead, others dying. Their groans and cries tore my heart, for I could do nothing for them. I could not sleep for the cannonading had been resumed. I thought morning would

never come-ages seemed to pass.

Finally the sky lightened and day came. With it came help. I was taken from the trench and my shoulder was dressed. I was then ordered to join the troop of men who were to start home. Those who were helpless went in wagons, but quite a few of us walked.

By evening we were several miles away. Along the road we saw many signs of the war. Here was an old French trench, and there an old shattered gun. Under several of the trees were new made graves, and the ground was discolored with blood. Most of the peasants' buildings were partly burned, the fences torn down, and the out-houses destroyed. Evidently the peasants had left and were safe behind the French lines. As we neared one house, however, a woman came out of the door. She was plainly of French descent, past middle age, perhaps fifty. In each hand she carried a large pitcher of sparkling water. She motioned for us to stop and gave us each a drink. Each man thanked her. When it came to my turn, I said:

"Madam, I thank you. It is seldom that we Germans receive kindness from a French woman."

"Yes, it is true," she replied, and a look of pain crossed her face. "But you, Madam?"

"Sir, I am loyal to France, but love all mankind." A smile illumined her face, a smile strangely sweet, gentle, compassionate.

"Yes?" I urged gently.

"Sir, I will tell you. When the war began, I had two as honorable sons as ever bore their father's name-Jean and Joquin. When the war came, they were anxious to go, and I was proud

.

EVENING.

to have them serve their country. Then came a year of waiting, and then the news"-her eyes filled with tears. "Yes, madam. I understand. Which went first?"

"My elder, Jean. And one month later Joquin. They are both buried there under the tree." She pointed to a spot where there were three fresh graves. "I was heart broken. My hatred for the Germans grew into a passion. I wished to kill one with my own hands. Then our troops were driven over this land. I was warned to leave and get behind Verdun, but I could not leave those fresh mounds. First, the French went past the house, and your shells whizzed past my window. Then you came. How I hated you! You had robbed me of my sons. I prayed for your death! Towards the first of the battle a young German, about the age of my own youngest, passed my window. He paused a moment, and was shot. He fell crashing through the glass at my very feet. He

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groaned and called for water. As he drank, he lifted his head and opened his eyes. 'Mother,' he whispered and died in my arms. At first I was exultant. Now some other mother would suffer, as I had. Then I came to see the horror and uselessness of it all. The terrible sacrifices of war! I buried him under the tree with my own boys, and wrote his name was in his coat. I saw the truth."

mother. mother. His

From then on

Again her face grew radiant with that smile, so sad, so tender; and suddenly I saw in her face the dim outline of the Master's face, sweet, gentle and compassionate. She had met her Calvary.

"Vorwarts," came the command, and with bared heads we passed on. She stood before her humble hut, with one hand outstretched until we were out of sight. And I wondered how many of us would be like the little French woman, who had suffered so much, but still loved her enemies.

EVENING

A saffron veil across the distant hills
The sunset throws with rosy-fingered grace,
While every bloom its hoard of incense spills
Upon the lilies of the dead day's face.
Funereal shadows of the purple night

Fling forth their banners from the changing sky-
Gone is the golden halo from the height,
And winds of evening, sobbing, hurry by.

A lone star, herald of a million fires,
Sends forth the radiance of its tiny lamp,
The last faint vesper of the thrush expires,
And mists are rising from the river-damp.
Ah, but the pearl-iike glory of the moon
White as the blowing rose you kissed in June!

R. R. GREENWOOD.

H

Not Up to Specifications

By Oscar Lewis

OWLING Hallie Smith-the descriptive portion of whose baptismal name was a heritage of infantile days, and therefore is likely to be misleading, since at the opening of our tale he had entirely outgrown the form of vocal vociferation that had earned him the title-Howling Hallie walked into the offices of King & Kern, Wool Brokers, one afternoon in late September, and sold the fall shearing of his three thousand Merinos; the price being twenty-nine cents, which was considerably above the average. Kern himself made out the check; he was a young fellow who had married King's daughter, and he felt somehow that it was a shame to pay out some six thousand good dollars to an old duffer like Smith.

This wholly excusable feeling, however, young Kern managed to conceal tolerably well behind a polite smile, and, as he slid the slip across the plate-glass top on the mahogany counter, he even ventured a jocular prophecy to the effect that before nightfall their dunn-colored municipality would be painted a brilliant and unrelieved scarlet. Which was merely Mr. Kern's metaphorical way of referring to Howling Hallie's well known habit of putting his money to the use for which it was intended; a proceeding which he carried into effect with a dexterous celerity and an absence of any superfluous motion that would have won for him the everlasting admiration of an efficiency expert.

Slowly and with deliberation Howling Hallie folded and refolded the check into a small and compact cube which he dropped into the breast

pocket of his flannel shirt.

"Son," he said, mildly, gazing through the faded blue eyes at the grinning Mr. Kern. "Son, across the street at the Empire, the biggest part of your fellow citizens, I take it, are foregathered with the intentions of biddin' me welcome, an' I sure would like to have you come along, too, for there's something I've got to say to them that you can't well afford to miss."

Mr. Kern, for reasons that were his own, agreed without hesitation, and arm in arm they left the office; an occurrence which was duly reported by the lookout on watch behind the leaded door of the Empire.

Howling Hallie's prophecy as to the number of those assembled to greet him proved entirely too modest, for, save for the hopelessly aged and the crippled, the reception committee was practically unanimous. Its collective greeting lacked something of its usual spontaneousness, for all those present noticed that he had come direct from the offices of Messrs. King and Kern, whereas by all the rules of logic and precedent, he should have sandwiched the two visits with a brief but important stop at the bank. A dozen rushed forward to remind him of the oversight.

Howling Hallie, however, insisted that first he would make a speech, and mounting to a moth-eaten green card table, he looked down upon the faces of these, his faithful subjects, with a benign smile upon his wrinkled old face.

"Gentlemen," he began, softly. "For seventeen years the population of this here town has had total and exclusive benefits from the annual difference

NOT UP TO SPECIFICATIONS

between my gross profits and losses. It's so, is it not?”

There was a puzzled, but polite, murmur of assent.

"An' during that time," continued Howling Hallie in the same gentle tone, "if there's any one of you that I haven't seen with his front feet in the trough, feedin' on the fruits of my industry, it must have been because he was totally lost in the crowd. A lot, I've noticed, has been pretty. consistent repeaters; which I don't hold against you, of course. Indeed, it's these latter that have been the chief joy and comfort of my declining years; for unlike a dog, a hog gets smarter at each feedin', and I've only kept up my interest in life by wonderin' what schemes each one of you is going to cook up next in order to beat the others out of their rightful share when next feedin' time comes around.

"It's been an interestin' and edifyin' experience," continued Howling Hallie, sighing reminiscently. "But as the wise man says, the human mind must either keep going forward or else slip back. For the last seventeen years you gentlemen have been going steadily forward, there can be no mistakin that; each year your schemes to relieve me of my wad has shown marked an' encouragin' improvement.

The results show me now that you have done a lot of clear and original thinkin', while with each succeedin' season your technique has approached nearer an' nearer to perfection. Of course, all along I've understood that this steady improvement could not go on forever, and last year my worst fears was realized. Your schemes at last had reached the heights of human ingenuity."

Howling Hallie paused, sighed designedly. "Gentlemen, your methods are now beyond improvement; and it sure would break by old heart to see you forced to fall back on some of those ancient an' timeworn methods of takin' my money. No, I couldn't stand it; you mustn't expect it of me, boys

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-not at my time of life. My hope is that I may remember you always like you are now; at the height of your strength an' powers, as they say. It will be one cheerful ray to light my declinin' years, an' to cheer me up now that I am forced to go out among strangers when I want to spend my money.

"Gentlemen," concluded Howling Hallie, "these partings are sad, but as my time is limited, an' my emotion, I am not ashamed to say, is such that my self-control won't last forever. So, since we must, let it be farewell."

And out through the door and diagonally across the street to the bank shuffled Howling Hallie Smith. He emerged presently with a canvas sack half filled with twenty dollar gold pieces, and stood on the steps while he transferred a handful to his pants pocket, where it would be handy for purposes of ready change. And then he rolled what remained up tightly, tied it with the attached cord, and after a wistful glance at the assembled townsmen opposite, he put the bag in his hind pocket and walked down to the depot, arriving just in time to catch the Shasta Limited. for San Francisco.

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