Written from Paris to
Anna Bowman Dodd.

Dear Mrs. Dodd:

We had been in England, near Cromer on the North Sea, having a holiday in that utterly tranquil place; and now the North Sea and the fields and downs of Poppyland and the songs of the skylarks seem all a part of another life in a far away world. The German proprietor of the Royal Golf-Links Hotel and his fifty German servants seem like people to be read about in a story beginning "Once upon a Time, long, very long ago".

We left Cromer on the twenty-eighth of July and came through fields of clover and the gentle English lands to London; and as we reached London the air grew tense with some unwonted excitement. The moment we were in the streets we encountered dense crowds of men, moving slowly and often forming groups about one man who was reading an Extra. We drove first to the Bank of Morgan, Grenfell and Company to get our mail and to ask why the excitement was so great. There was little information to be had and no one would stop long enough to impart that little. At the Savoy Hotel that night, things were much as usual; waiters reaping a golden harvest of tips and people laughing and at leisure. The next morning my husband went to the Bank again. When he came back I could see that he was deeply stirred. He told me that the Bank was packed with people and that no French money was to be had. (He finally obtained some from a broker by paying a heavy premium.) He decided that we could not come for our visit to you in Normandy and sent you a cable to tell you of our change in plans. We came directly from London to Paris.

Friday was very drear in London, misty, ominously silent and streets crowded. Saturday morning we shared the dining room service (at the Savoy) with a group of our compatriots who were leaving London on an early boat train to catch the Mauretania for home. I have never seen such panic-stricken men and women as they were. Of course we all talked to each other and when they found that we were going to France, they thought that we were quite crazy. One man who had come from Paris only the day before, said, "Why! Don't you know it's hell in France today?" We took a cab to Charing Cross Station but were a long while in reaching there. Our route was directed by the police and when we did reach the station, even standing room was at a premium. The big bobby who assisted the coachman with our trunks said, "Where to?" When we answered, "Paris," he looked at us quickly and said, "But you are Americans!" "Yes," said my husband, "but I am the Rector of the American Church in Paris. My duty is there." The bobby saluted and after a moment said, "We'll be with you, sir!" It warmed our hearts; it warms them still to think of his understanding, and that, too, in the midst of a surge of bewilderment that we were never to know again.

There were a few French people crossing to France with us, one or two Americans bound for Paris, representatives of an "Esperanto Congress" and some English "trippers" who absolutely packed the train and the boat. Thanks to my husband's forethought we had a small stateroom on the boat and this we shared with Mr. and Mrs. Osborne of Cincinnati.

After a tiresome time we were on French soil once more. Only a generous and judicious use of fees made it possible for us to reach the little train waiting to take us and our fellow travellers to Paris. Soon we were aboard and going slowly through the little villages. The late afternoon sunlight was falling on the country roads and on the white-smocked peasants marching there, muskets on their shoulders and scarlet caps on their heads.

Gathered together in the village streets were groups of women with strangely idle hands and little children clinging to their skirts. It was all so silent, so unwonted, so terrifying. Then when we came to Paris, the dense crowds at the station were as still as a colony of ants. There were no porters, no one to serve you at any price whatever. We carried our bags to the outer gates and there our own man was waiting for us and our own automobile was ready. My husband's first care was for the strange Americans whose luggage he finally rescued, sending them and it off to a hotel. For three hours I waited in the car. Such sights as I saw,--- and with it all, scarcely a sound. In a taxi next to me sat a little white-faced woman and her three day's old baby. The war had begun for her when her husband came to her and said, "We must go back. No one can go to the country now. There are no trains and mobilization is ordered." There were delicate women, exquisitely dressed, coming in carts with their pretty children, women holding the trains of their white skirts over their arms as they helped lift a trunk or a box; and their coming was all to no purpose. The patient, courteous crowd who were coming into the city and the ones hoping to go away to the country were alike obliged to stay in Paris. There were no more trains ......We drove very quickly through the deserted streets to the Rectory, where we found piles of letters and telegrams awaiting us. Two of the sacristans from the Church had gone. One was Tesseyre who is "Sacristan en chef"..... We went, shortly before midnight, over to the Langham Hotel and asked for something to eat. We were served with some cold meat, cheese, bread and coffee. The head waiter came and asked if he might have change for a hundred franc note. It was good- naturedly given to him, mostly in gold. We never saw him again, for he was Austrian and before twenty-four hours elapsed he must leave the country or become a member of a detention camp ..... There were many travellers waiting after the service the next morning and we all realized that the situation was exceedingly grave.

JEANNETTE GRACE WATSON.

Anna Bowman Dodd(1)
Le Manoir de Vasouy.
par Honfleur (Calvados)

Tuesday, August 4, 1914.

Dear Mrs. Watson:

Your letter came today and was like a letter from the Front. It's the first news direct, authentic, that I have had from Paris since July 30th. Already we who are living close to the beating heart of the people have the sense, the strangely isolated feeling of being cut off from the world! Such days and nights as I have lived through. For every man and woman in my house and in our Parish as well as along the coast is a tortured, though courageous participant in this monstrous struggle. I can not help believing that those of us who are in the country are more acutely sensible of what this war means to every human being in France. If 1 live through it you will read as much as I can write of the tragedies of every hour. The courage of the men is sublime. The spirit of determined revenge for all past and present insult and hurts is terrifying. I never dreamed of such hate. Is Germany quite mad? We have had no English papers since five days, no boats to Southampton, no money, and cables to London and America return no answers. Two women, compatriots, have given me twelve hundred francs. I have all here to provide for. We expect the first wounded to be sent to the Casinos at Trouville and Deauville. The immediate organization is superb and surprising. The silence through the countryside is sinister.

Mrs. Hayden is seriously ill. Her maid is German. I am fearing serious consequences. Anything may happen. I have asked them here but she remains at her villa. Men and horses are gone; only the women are left. What historic hours and what gnawing anxieties! Again thanks for your letter. Nothing that I have read in the papers has given me so realistic a picture of conditions in London and the landing at Dieppe, the Gare St. Lazare, and Paris, as have your stirring pages.

On the enclosed card is a picture of the house where you might have been,---the pouf of flowers ready to greet you both, although I felt sure you would go to your post of duty.

With deep affection to you both,

NANNIE DODD.

'The Post of Duty' for the Rector was Paris and the American Church. "What are you going to do?" I asked him. "How shall you get food and money for all who come?" "Give whatever we have to give. I did not ask for this work. God sent us to do it,---one day at a time. The means with which to do it are His responsibility; all we have to do is to give and to work."

The Rector's first cable to America was as follows:

The Rt. Rev. Daniel S. Tuttle,
Presiding Bishop of the American Church:

Please publish statement. Will need immediate financial aid in work of caring for sick and poor, first, American students stranded here, next, French women and children. Thousands of families destitute. Men ordered off to War. Have opened bureau of Relief; have nursing staff on duty; have offered to feed all American students in need; money for fuel will be necessary. Must take care of our own first. Then help our French fellow-citizens.

Watson---Rector---Paris.

Conjointly with Bishop Lloyd, the Presiding Bishop sent out an appeal to the American Episcopal Church. The first gift was a personal gift of twenty-five dollars from Bishop Tuttle; the next was five hundred dollars from various sources sent through the Church Missions House.

You have not forgotten, have you, that the first news of the immanence of war found us in or rather near Cromer, in England. While we were there we were companied by the Rector of the Church of the Intercession in New York, the Rev. Dr. Milo Gates and Mrs. Gates. Dr. Gates had come to England to take part in a Lincoln Memorial Service and to arrange for the presentation of the proposed Lincoln Memorial in Hingham which is near the old city of Norwich. At the first alarming news, Dr. and Mrs. Gates left Cromer and went to Bath, intending to remain until October, when they were to sail for New York. Long before that, however, they secured passage on the Franconia and Dr. Gates writes,

" ...The voyage was beastly. The fittings had been taken from the Aquitania and the second and third class cabins fitted for first class in three days' time,---this even to the paint. It was all very clean although, having no cargo, the ship was very light. We had an awful storm; broke a ventilator like a pipe stem and the water rushed down our companionway so that it had to be closed. The bows were under water for three days and the ship pounded awfully. I could take only a little orange juice. No lights even on the mast and running at full speed .......

How good home seemed to me! Mrs. Choate has started the idea of collecting money for the Red Cross.

MILO GATES."

Sunday passed and the Rector had been for hours closeted with our Ambassador as to what was to be done if? .... The story of what was done you will find in the pages that follow. But first of all you must know something of the American refugees who began to pour into Paris. Money was scarce. Letters of Credit were not convertible into cash and for the moment Americans resident in Paris were allowed only five per cent of their credits at the banks and not over five hundred francs at a time. Letters like the following one began to pour in by every mail:

"It was a great pleasure to find on Sunday evening, that you had returned to Paris and were at Holy Trinity. All our English and American friends are away on holiday. My daughter's fiancé is an English naval officer and we may wish to go over to England. May we come to you for help and advice? .... (Later) God bless you for the help given. We have our passports and are off for England."

Now no one has any time to make the slightest preparation to help and the needy and the helpless poured in like the tides of the sea. Bishop Gailor of Tennessee, with his wife, his two daughters and his son, Frank Hoyt Gailor, were in Paris. By afternoon, on Monday, they were all guests in the little Rectory occupying the third floor, all except the one room in which dear Mrs. Mesny slept for many months. She had been resident in Paris for years; many Americans remember the Rev. Harry Mesny with deep affection and all Paris knows the "Concordia," the beautiful home for working girls, which was founded by Mrs. Mesny's mother and which Mrs. Mesny still guides and directs.

All of that Monday afternoon my husband spent driving from shop to shop buying as much food as possible. We had our 'holiday money' and this he used in the purchase of supplies and he kept enough to see that Alexis had gold to put in his belt when he started for war. On the morning of August the third my husband, with Bishop Gailor, took Alexis to the station in the automobile. Alexis, you know, was our butler. His regiment was the One Hundred and Thirty-First

And he was going to join it. It was dreadful to say our adieux to him and Louise, his wife, who was my maid, was braver than we were until he had gone and then she broke down utterly.

Just here I must pay a tribute to the servants in our little household. They worked all day and every day throughout the war. Grateful for whatever was done for their countrymen, they stood by and helped us to be of service. Louise, Madeleine and Corinne. In three years' time, eleven men of their families had died and some of their women folk laid down the too heavy task of living. The American Church owes them a place in its Book of Remembrance for all that their fidelity made possible.

When the station was in plain sight Alexis descended to the sidewalk and the chauffeur saluted. Bishop Gailor and my husband stood beside Alexis who knelt down on the stones. Other soldiers stopped and the Bishop gave Alexis his blessing and then master and man clasped hands and our soldier was on his way. Really he was ours, for his place and his wage were his as long as we remained in France. Americans and French alike tried to send the men on their way as comforted as possible. Anything like ceremony was dispensed with in the conduct of the house. All the food for a meal was put on the table at one time and the service was reduced to the utmost simplicity. We had funny times with breakfast, for the "little breakfast" in France means individual service and just coffee and rolls. French servants do not know anything about a breakfast table; but with such a household it became necessary to serve us all in the dining room. There we had an array of little pots and pitchers, piles of bread and honey and coffee with hot milk. Mrs. Gailor sat next to the Bishop and saw that he was supplied with as much as he wished of our café-au-lait. Louise was in despair at the change in our ways but we survived.

By August twenty-fourth Bishop Gailor and his family were safe in England and of their crossing he writes:

"I sent you a telegram this morning to tell you that we are safely here. Our trip was not unpleasant although the crowd was great and the rush at the two landings, Boulogne and Folkestone, was disgusting. The officials were very courteous and considerate, and having two men in our party we managed very well, arriving in London yesterday evening at seven forty-five. We shall never forget the gracious hospitality of the Rectory and the loving kindness of Mrs. Watson and yourself. It is a lasting and a grateful memory. The "grapevine" rumor here amongst the newspaper men with whom Frank Hoyt is thrown is not quite so optimistic as the French and English papers make it in their reports. There are persistent stories of frightful losses which the Allies have already suffered and hot denials of any possible leanings after social Democracy in Germany. However we know little of the War and I am hoping that Russia will begin to do something soon. London is full; busy as usual; the busses running, trams, etc.; theaters going and no sign of panic now.

THOMAS F. GAILOR.

Bishop Gailor was the greatest comfort and assistance during his three weeks stay at the Rectory. He wrote a wonderful article for the Parish paper but there was no one to print it and the editorial went into the waste basket. I took it out and it is now part of our war history. It begins:

"Forty-four years ago Bismarck created modern Germany and established the Hohenzollern on the throne". After some stirring, brilliant pages the Bishop writes: "There are many thousands of Americans on the Continent and as far as I can ascertain they would agree with me as to what I have written. In Paris we have been profoundly impressed with the calm and restrained behavior of the French people. There is intense earnestness and determination but no hysterics and no lawlessness. Everything is most strangely quiet. The soldiers ride through the streets with smiling faces. Many women shed tears but there is no panic. We Americans feel stranded, helpless. We cannot get to England without paying excessive fares and possibly losing our baggage. Hundreds of Americans are without money and, for the moment, checks are worthless. So far good friends have made me and my family feel at home. We have plenty to eat and I am busy at the Church helping the Rector who is burdened now with heavy responsibilities. The Church is beautiful and spacious and has been offered to the Government as an emergency refuge where the homeless may sleep and be fed. I am profoundly impressed with the variety of the Rector's responsibilities and with the exceptional wisdom and ability of his administration. In this time of peril he has given the Church a recognized leadership in the work of relief and comfort. The Parish House is thronged with people asking for and receiving Relief, and with classes attending first aid instructions. The Rector is especially attached to the American Embassy and is a very active member of the Ambulance Committee. Two of the leading business men said to me the other day, 'We men, who are engaged in work for Relief;---the soldiers and the poor---find your Rector a tower of strength to us all'. It takes high courage ---for the congregation is a transient one,---there are no available funds, while its charities and its offices of mercy are freely dispensed to all classes of Society and to all who need, of whatever faith ......

THOMAS F. GAILOR,
Bishop of Tennessee.

All during the month of August our trunks, brought back from England, remained packed. There was no time in which to unpack them; one had almost no time to think of the dangers of the situation for the demands on time and strength were so tremendous. I have seen delightful, well-dressed women sitting in our little drawing room with their feet in felt slippers and even wrapped in towels, too tired to wear shoes any longer. There were over-fatigued people who had to be sent to the American hospital; there were letters every day like the ones which follow:

"My permis-de-séjour will be good for only ten days longer. I am trying to leave for Holland ....etc., etc.

* * * * *

"I am with a party of Americans. We are stranded. Due to sail from Glasgow on August 22d.

. . . . Can you send any information or otherwise help me?"

* * * * *

"Do write us. We must stay here for I met with an accident in Carlsbad in July, breaking my right foot. We were obliged to remain there for five weeks after every one else had gone. We were allowed no news, no letters and no papers and the atmosphere was most hostile and depressing."

* * * * *

"It was one of the happiest moments of my life when I reached London and my sister Kitty. She had grown most anxious and nervous about me. We were detained so long at Amiens by trains of soldiers that we were obliged to remain at Boulogne over night. We had to have permits to remain and the permits to leave France. I am so anxious about you since I know of the bomb falling so near the church."

* * * * *

The dear, gentle American who wrote these last lines was four days en route from Geneva to Paris and finally lost all of her luggage but one small hand hag. You know how tired she was when I tell you that she took off her bonnet and threw it away, tying a lace scarf over her weary head. On the day of her arrival in Paris my husband had a cabled money order from her brother to be used for "charity". Was it not curious that his own sister should be the first to use the fund!

We had no secretary and no helpers for secretarial work during the first eighteen months of the War and we tried to answer all letters and notes and to keep our records, often working until long after midnight. We have the entire correspondence and all the official papers that came into the Rector's hands and these will be part of the record we have saved for America. Few of you will ever see or read these letters; therefore I am taking some of them for this book and letting them tell you their own story:

"I appeal to you to inquire if you know any American woman who would like to stay in my villa at St. Arnault. I am all alone. I offer a good room, would give no wages but she would help me get the meals. I want a serious person. When the war is over I will rent a little villa around Paris. I live a retired life, keep a large watch dog, other animals and chickens. I have gas, the New York Herald as well as the New York Sun. No dress is of any use here, the village being simple; no one follows styles. Please send a person soon .... "

Just one more tourist letter and this one from Bishop Lines:

Newark, New Jersey,
September 15, 1914.

"It was our good fortune to come home on the steamship Celtic. It really was rather pitiful that so many people, frightened and homesick, went away in great discomfort, taking the steerage. German cruisers were the cause of the fear and there was a strange home-sickness and longing impossible to talk people out of. The sentiment of our country is overwhelmingly against Germany, as you know. The. German Ambassador is apparently doing duty as a press agent and men are evidently being employed to try to change public sentiment. If a distinction can be maintained between the German people and the government, the sympathy of Americans for the Allies will remain unchanged. I think that our German people have little sympathy with Prussian military despotism but naturally they are sorry to have Germany defeated. I am assured that the Germans here do not approve of the course of the Kaiser and the War Party while unwilling to speak against Germany.

I wish that Mr. Harjes might know what great relief the announcement of the Bank to honor all Letters of Credit in that first week of August, brought to a large company of people. It was one of the finest acts of service of that troubled time ... . You, dear Dr. Watson, have filled out the ideal of a great public servant at this time."

(Signed)
EDWIN S. LINES.

One more travel letter and this time one that recounts the experience of two ladies who were leaving Germany at the outbreak of the War. Madame Francisco-Martin is an American, the widow of a Spanish gentleman, and she was travelling with her cousin, Miss Leavitt of Boston; they are equally at home in Paris and at Mentone.

Miss Leavitt wrote the following notes for me and it is with her permission that I have transcribed them for you:

"We were at Liebstein, in the Thuringian Forest, when War was declared. I shall never forget that Sunday evening, August the first, when the Town-crier stopped on the place by the Clinique and declared that mobilization was to take place on the morrow. We had gone to Liebstein for our eyes and to consult the famous oculist, Graf Wiser; and we had arranged to leave on the 2nd for Frankfort. We had motored from Paris with our French chauffeur and maid and had had no unpleasant encounter of any kind; so that we left on that Sunday morning as confident as ever, only asking if we had sufficient petrol to reach Frankfort as none could be bought en route. No one told us to ask for a permit or for papers of identification. We thought mobilization was against Russia but we wanted to be in a big town although, being Americans, we felt perfectly safe. As we passed through a village I heard a boy hiss François but we paid no attention. About thirty kilometers from Liebstein the chauffeur exclaimed, "The route is barred,---we can go no further." Sure enough---logs were being laid across the road and a mob of evil looking men, one with a gun, and a police agent all screaming "Ausweiss! !" I said we would not get out;---we were Americans and had come from a cure at Liebstein. "No !" they yelled that we were Russians disguised as women spies---and that when the Bürgermeister came we would have to get out. That, I said, I understood but it was not their business to tell us to "Ausweiss!" they could threaten as they liked but we were not afraid of them or any one. When the Bürgermeister arrived the look of him assured us that all would be arranged. He had a good honest face. (That was in 1914---now in 1917 I should doubt it.) He got into the motor and conducted us to his house; we were still surrounded by the mob. We had to go into the house and were received by a gracious fräulein who said she was very sorry but please not to resist. We must come upstairs and be completely undressed and examined. This was done and I asked her what she expected to find in our stays and she said she was told to look for dynamite. Every littlest thing in our motor was searched and turned out. Our chauffeur was frightened and I tried to reassure him. "Mais ce n'est pas rigolo tout le même, Mademoiselle,"(2) he replied.

If we had been told at Liebstein to provide ourselves with a pass the trouble would not have arrived for with the pass from the Bürgermeister of Dorndorf (the village where we were held up) we had no more serious difficulties although we were stopped and accused of being Russians, many times en route and at one village we were detained for two hours .... The chauffeur was taken prisoner and at the time this letter was written had not been released .... Our car was taken from us. We got no receipt and neither car nor contents were returned .... We were thankful to reach Frankfort and the "Englisherhof"."

You will always bear in mind, will you not, that there was no time whatever for making plans as to what we would do or how we would do it. We just did it. On my desk there lay a paper tablet for notes and for a week or two I kept a daily paragraph. These notes may help you to understand some of the things we write about. I just could not keep a dairy---I don't seem to have that kind of a mind; and besides it would have been like being with a friend in agony and writing down his torment.

Perhaps you did not know, or if you did you may have forgotten, that we had been to luncheon with the Ambassador and Mrs. Herrick just before we left for England. We had told them how much we would miss them, had wished them a safe crossing to America and had gone away from 5 Rue François Ier with a queer little lonely feeling in our hearts. Now-back in France, in the midst of all these tremendous times and we are still seeing the Ambassador and Mrs. Herrick. Their house had been dismantled and the larger part of their trunks and personal belongings had been sent home to Cleveland; all arrangements for their own departure were completed and the newly appointed Democratic Ambassador had arrived in Paris---and so had the War.

Mr. Herrick unpacked his trunks and at his Government's request continued his service as American Ambassador in France. His own official records will tell you all about his Committee; but no personal record he can ever write will tell you what it meant to the World that he staid at his post. The house was made habitable with some rented furnishings and the servants who had gone to the colors were replaced by a few others and then America began to do her duty in our Embassy, led by our Ambassador.

After it was decided by the Ambassador's Committee to offer to France an Ambulance, the next step was to arrange offices for all sorts of work and workers in the Embassy itself. American business men, living in France, rallied to the Ambassador's assistance and putting all personal concerns aside, without money and without price gave all they had to give by way of help.

Amongst the men who arranged the extra train service from Paris to the ports was Mr. Laurence Benet. He came to have luncheon with us one day after the last special had departed.

"You must feel like a patriot," I said.

"No," he answered, "I don't. I feel like a tired porter without a fee. Mrs. G--- had twelve trunks and more to take with her."

The Ambassador's Committee met daily and for a time Mrs. Herrick's Committee met daily also. We women met in the dining room of the Embassy. The white curtains still hung at the windows and the big table was still in the center of the room. Here Mrs. Herrick presided; here plans were made for the women's part in the establishment of the proposed hospital.

At first the room was crowded. Mrs. Potter Palmer, in a rose-colored silk dress veiled with gray, came and talked and helped with the plans and then vanished over to Scotland. Mrs. G--- and her trunks went home and by twos and fours the places became vacant; and then the women who were to stay in France went to work in earnest. Mrs. Wharton, while approving of and working for the hospital, felt that her best service could be given to the immediate establishment of soup-kitchens and work rooms for refugees. Mrs. Edward Tuck became then and there both fairy Godmother and patron saint for all the American work that followed. Before September first committees had formed and done their work and then most of the people who composed their membership vanished as the dreadful struggle drew nearer and nearer. Mrs. Charles Carroll of Carrolton had been occupied with buying the linens for the hospital, and on August 24th, the hospital was opened.

We went out, one day in August, to visit the Lycée Pasteur, the unfinished school which the French government had permitted the Americans to use. There were no doors and no windows in the unfinished building. Heaps of plaster lay everywhere and it all looked very forlorn. Mr. Charles Carroll joined us and he and my husband decided on the location of the offices; ---and so the great work was begun. I am happy to see you so interested in the "beginnings" of which I write. The board met for weeks in the offices of the National Radiator Company and there also Mr. Monahan and Mr. Twyfort began their loyal service to the sick and wounded, a service that was greatly to America's credit.

THE AMERICAN AMBULANCE OF PARIS MILITARY BRANCH OF THE AMERICAN HOSPITAL AT NEUILLY URGENT APPEAL TO EVERY AMERICAN AT HOME

Paris, August 13th, 1914.

Europe, being convulsed by the greatest struggle ever experienced, we as neutrals, have undertaken the equipment and maintenance of a large hospital for the wounded of every nation, following the glorious example of Minister Washburn. The leading Americans are collecting funds for this purpose. They entreat donations. Checks should be sent directly to Herman Harjes, Treasurer, care of Morgan, Harjes et Cie, 31 Boulevard Haussman, Paris. Any donations of the smallest amount will be gratefully received by

Signed---(                        )

Mrs. Thackara, whom you all know, was General Sherman's daughter and the wife of the American Consul in Paris. She proved herself a most efficient chairman and almost immediately after her appointment we had all given her long lists of names of persons to whom we thought our appeals should be sent. The first response from my own list of names was from Mr. Bertram G. Work; the second came from Mr. and Mrs. Nelson C. Stone. Long before funds began to come from America, Americans living in France were pledging their gifts to the hospital. You must remember, too, that the first suggestion for this American gift to France was made by Mr. Herrick and the first gifts for it were given by Mrs. Herrick.

The permanent American Hospital in Paris was organized in 1906 and in that same year it was incorporated under French law. A bill for the Hospital was voted by Congress and signed by the President of the United States on January 30th, 1913. The Board of Governors were: John H. Harjes, President; John J. Hoff, 1st vice-President; W. S. Dalliba, 2nd vice-President; H. H. Harjes, Treasurer; Henry Cachard, Honorary Secretary; S. F. Biddle, Dr. C. W. DuBouchet, L. Huffer, C. Treis, Dr. Crosby Whitman, Frank H. Mason, Dr. E. Gros, Dr. A. J. Magnin, L. V. Twyfort, F. W. Monahan, W. S. Hillis, F. W. Sharon, H. A. Van Bergen, Dr. R. H. Turner.

Never mind if it bores us a little to read lists of names. It is a 'Roll of Honor' and every name spells all that is America's ideal manhood to France.

As soon as the creation of the Ambulance was decided upon a special board of Managers was appointed, composed of Mr. F. W. Monahan, Mr. H. H. Harjes, Mr. L. V. Twyfort, Mr. L. V. Benet, Charles Carroll of Carrollton, Dr. Samuel N. Watson and, ex-officio, the President and Vice-President of the American Hospital. During all these tremendous days of August the work of preparing for this Ambulance went steadily forward. How the men and women worked! Aeroplanes over our heads even in daytime; steel arrows coming down in most unexpected places and at all sorts of hours; and always, always, we went about feeling that the whole thing must be a wild dream.

On the 27th of August, 1914, France, through her "Gouvernement Militaire," sent her gracious acceptance of the proposed gift.

It was in August that I pinned the badge of the Ambulance on my husband's sleeve: a white band, with a red cross, the letters A. A. and the seal of the Military Government of Paris. When I was little I used to read with absorbed interest and a beating heart the stories of the Knights and Crusaders; used to read of how wives and sweethearts used their own silken tresses to embroider devices on the Knights' banners; and here was I fastening a band on my own Knight's sleeve and watching him walk out under the Stars and Stripes through the cloisters of Holy Trinity Church, going to work and to stand for God and the Right. It was thrilling and I was proud. So are you, proud of him and of all our countrymen who did not wait one instant when the chance came to serve.

On August 29th, 1914, the first General Order for the Ambulance was issued and this order was signed by Samuel N. Watson as Chairman of the Executive Board of the Ambulance Committee. September 14th, 1914, the first report was sent out. The linen for the hospital had been made up in the Ouvroir at the American Church. All the Committee connected with the work of the hospital were actively at work. Those who served were volunteers and included the medical and surgical staff and the subsistence department.

I know your heart so well that I know you will want for yourself the records that France has kept of two Americans who died in their country's service. The first is Valentine Blacque, who died on January 9th, 1915. Mrs. Blacque writes of him:

"On the third of August, 1914, my husband went to our Embassy to see what he could do to help, but, as the Ambassador expressed it, he just hung up his hat and went to work. He continued at the Embassy until the question of the American Ambulance at Neuilly demanded service from all Americans who could give time to it and then Mr. Blacque went there. There was nothing that he did not supplement or assist, working day and night until he was utterly worn out and on January 9th, he died of pneumonia."

We have a wonderful little picture of him walking behind the carriage on which lay the body of the first soldier who died in our Ambulance. Mr. Blacque carried two flags, the French flag and the Stars and Stripes.

"I was so proud," he said, "so proud to be chief mourner at the funeral of that brave soldier."

Then there was Abram Nave Ranney who was born in Elizabeth, New Jersey, partly educated in Europe, and who was known to all the lovers of San Moritz. The Naves, his mother's family, are from Mark Twain's state from the charming little city of St. Joseph. "Abe," as he was called by his intimates, came to the Rector and said:

"Dr. Watson, what can you give me to do?"

And he became Chief of the Orderlies, the first man to receive the wounded in those days when no one knew what to do for gas gangrene; when it took the bravest, gayest spirits to occupy such a post of service. Abram Nave Ranney served through four difficult, dreadful months and then worn out with his service he attached himself to the Embassy and was sent on a tour of inspection to the camps for German prisoners. But heart and body were too tired and in January he, too, died of pneumonia. Another patriot had gone to his reward. We missed him.

How kind people were and how little they counted the cost of their services. There were those first women nurses serving under Miss Willingale. You will find all their names are recorded in the data which we have put away for future history. Miss Florence Matthews deserves a first place on that first list. She is a sister of Brander Matthews. At the outbreak of the war her family besought her to leave Paris, but, instead of leaving Paris she closed all but one corner of her house, put away the harp on which she plays with such exquisite skill and then she offered her services in whatever capacity she could be used, saying that she would be only too happy to die if need be in the service of the men who were enduring what the soldiers of France were enduring. Then there was Mrs. Audenreid who kept the hospital storerooms, Mrs. George Munroe who served in the hospital all through the war, Miss Gassette who directed the pansement making and Mrs. Charles Carroll amongst the first at every service.

With Hospital, nurses and doctors waiting, how were the wounded to be brought to Paris? Well---first by volunteer service and in private motors. We, my husband and I, were at the hospital when the first cars were sent out for wounded. This was early in September. We were too deeply moved for tears as our gallant compatriots went on their errand of mercy, driving the cars that they had used for travel, for pleasure, for the opera and when they went to dine in some pleasant company. Now the car and its owner went eagerly on a dangerous journey.

Mr. Charles Carroll(3) has written for us a description of that first Ambulance drive and it is almost as thrilling to read it as it was to hear him tell it.

18 rue Vaneau,

September, 1914.

Dear Mrs. Watson:

You have asked me to write you a page of the history of the agonizing days that we spent in Paris in this memorable month of September. I can do nothing more interesting than to tell you of the visit of our American Ambulance to Meaux on the night of September 8th. When we received our call we were told that there were three or four hundred wounded at Meaux needing succor and treatment. Our long train of motors left the Lycée Pasteur to run rapidly through the half-lit streets of Paris, stopping only for a moment at the rue Châteaudun to pick up the soldier who was stationed there to meet us and give us the password in the war-stricken district through which we were to pass. Hurriedly passing through the gate of Pantin, where a word to the sentinels that we were going after wounded and a glance at our passports sufficed, away we went over rough and uneven roads filled with baggage trains and reserve troops camped out in the villages. The whole scene was alive with action and movement, bringing vividly to one's mind the realization of the titanic struggle for the possession of a great city that was going on almost at its gates. After three hours en route, stopped at frequent periods by the sentries we arrived at Meaux, where the horror of the silence around us, the paper notices tacked on every door, the untenanted streets and houses revealed the deserted city in the centre of the battlefield of two gigantic armies. Not a soul seemed abroad---not a light in any windows. At last we rang up a soldier at the préfecture who took us to the college where the Red Cross flag showed us where the mutilated of the day before had been lodged. After much knocking on our part a weary concierge let us into the Chamber of Horrors such as I never wish to see again. In every little room, with no lights to cheer them, on iron bedsteads and on benches with bloodstained bandages, lay two hundred soldiers from the battle of the day before. They were, some of them, Morocco and Algerian tirailleurs and the glimmering lights of our candles would catch the wild gleams of their anxious eyes and the wondering questioning glances as to whether we were friends or foes. The tables in the room were strewn pell mell with empty bottles of water and medicines. The odor, the smell of blood and infection were overpowering in that hot atmosphere. The scene was one of undying horrors that no one who saw it will ever forget. Our surgeons devoted themselves to finding the worst cases for us to take back in our cars but with so many wounded, there was little we could do to help and I was sent to Claye, the nearest telephone station, to try to have a train sent out on the Eastern railway to bring the wounded to our hospital in Paris.

With an engineer soldier given me by the Commander of the Squad who were repairing the bridge which had been blown up by the English on their retreat across the Marne, I started at 2 A. M. in a pitch black night, lighted on the horizon by burning farms and blazing villages that were being deserted and destroyed by the retreating German troops. Arriving at Claye and challenged abruptly by the sentry at the headquarters of the 6eme Corps, General Manoury, I was accosted by a Staff Officer, who, when he heard my mission, took me into headquarters to telephone to Paris for the train.

The hallway of the little village chateau that was Army headquarters for the night, was filled with weary officers sleeping on chairs, on benches, in corners, dead with fatigue after the battle of the preceding days---snatching a moment's repose before the terrible efforts that must come on the morrow. In one corner of the room, over a sleeping dragoon officer were two standards---captured from the Germans the afternoon before, the one stained with the life blood of the bearer from whom it had been taken. Should I live a thousand years I can never forget the emotion with which I gazed on this scene. The brightly lighted hail, the sleeping men and the banners of the enemy as trophies of their valor.

The train was, after a long wait, secured for the poor wounded at Meaux and with a word of warning as to the nervousness of sentries in the early morning, from the Staff Officer, I went back through the dawn to find our cars loaded with their human freight---ready to start for Paris. In their midst, in the cruel, cold morning light stood the noble figure of Bishop Marbeau of Meaux, his face lit up with joy and emotion at the thought that the poor wounded that he had housed with such difficulty were to be taken where they could have proper care. This splendid Prelate had carried the burden of his municipality for four days during the German occupation when all the civil authorities were gone. He had, personally, with the few inhabitants that were left brought in and lodged the wounded of the sanguinary battle that preceded the German retreat and he stood by our car in his purple vestments, a noble example of all that is great and good in manhood and devotion to duty.

At nine o'clock after being acclaimed by the populace of La Villette and the suburban districts we brought our precious load of suffering humanity to the great hospital where tender hands lifted them from their stretchers and placed them in cool, clean wards where hope and courage would be reborn in their stricken hearts."

(Signed) CHARLES CARROLL OF CARROLLTON.

Oh! I know you have wiped the tears from your eyes while you read Mr. Carroll's letter. It is the first brave, splendid story that was written as well as lived, worthy of all the American heroism that followed.

The first Ambulance Report reads:

Dear Sir,-

I beg to report the total number of patients received at the hospital to date (September 14) is 90.

Very truly yours,

Dr. Watson was amazed to see on the Report that there were two German patients, for the Ambulance had been forbidden to receive prisoners, all such patients being in French hospitals. Mr. Ranney said that the Germans had been brought in during the night and by order were placed in the ward. Dr. Watson went immediately to the Ambassador to ask who was to assume responsibility for the prisoners. The Ambassador said he would assume all present and future responsibility and the Germans remained, developed measles and were for some time in an isolation ward.

The Ambulance was, by this time, known at home and abroad. On October 30th, 1914, the Field Service, with ex-Ambassador Bacon as its first sponsor, was inaugurated. Mr. Kipling became the active Director and after this things moved forward at such a pace that no one record could contain all their story.

What I have written down for you seems so calm, so detailed, but just think what it meant to live through. Think of eight thousand vehicles passing the corner of rue Pierre Charron and the Avenue de l'Alma on one day in late August, every one of them taking people out of Paris. The houses in our quarter were deserted save for a few concierges. In August the following letter was written to her grandmother by the Countess de B., The Countess represents all that is finest and best in womanhood and has given her devoted service to France, the trained intelligent service of both head and heart. She is just a very little yours to be proud of too, for she has an American uncle and American cousins.

St. Jean du Bois,
Noyon, Sarthe.
25th August, Chartres.

".... I go every day to the Croix Rouge and am in the salle with a cousin of ours and her sister. The men are all getting on very well and nearly all can sit up, but we are expecting more wounded very soon, unfortunately. Yesterday I went to the station as there came a train of refugees; a few were Italians and I went to speak to them and brought them things to eat. The tales they tell are awful. One Italian woman had a baby eight days old and was obliged to run away and walk 18 kilometres to get to a station, with her were also three other children. The Germans in the Meurthe and Moselle burned twenty villages entire, took all the food they could get. All women "enceintes" were killed at once and many women had their breasts cut off. They are perfect savages. Ladies of the Croix Rouge were killed; the priests, old men, children and nuns. The ambulances were set on fire. It is perfectly terrifying. The men here are wild with hatred and want to kill the prisoners that go by but no one is allowed to go near them. J------ is wild to go but must await his orders. News is better today. The next battle has begun. It must be awful. We are anxiously waiting the result as it means all to us, of course. One of the wounded was telling me, day before yesterday, that the battle he was in (they are not allowed to say where) after all was finished, two kilometres of ground was covered with blood, wounded and dead; the cornfields were red and the smell of the blood was awful. One wounded man crawled six kilometres so that he should not cross the battlefield, the scene was so frightful. I dream of it every night and am terrified to see J------ go. The dead are in number enormous; one can scarcely think now Let us all pray to God that this terrible thing may soon end . . . ."

BIANCA.

Americans who remained were all at work giving time, money, hospitality and all they had to give and giving it in the name of their country.

Mr. LeRoy White (Mr. Henry White's brother) writes from Rabodanges in the Orne:

"So many to help and to comfort. Even our réformés are called. The problems of daily life become very complicated: with one-half hundred souls, relatives, soldiers and the like to think of as well as neighbours and our three neighborhood towns."

In Paris the great shops were closed; the ones like the Galerie Lafayette had their counters covered with muslin and all day long the saleswomen sat and made bandages and hospital supplies while the Louvre prepared a hospital which it maintained throughout the war.

By the end of September there were comparatively few Americans left in Paris. This does not mean that they ran away from anything that either you or they could consider duty. Those who could not be of actual service, whose permanent homes were not in Paris, were asked by their own Embassy to go; for while France was putting up a brave fight, there could be no assurance that Paris would not be entered by the enemy. Telegrams from scores of Americans who were absent on holiday, were sent to my husband offering the use of their apartments for stranded Americans. Mr. Frederic MacMonnies sent word from Giverney that his apartment in the rue du Luxembourg might be used for four or five ladies and Mrs. Stannard Wood cabled from Saranac Lake that her beautiful apartment was at the Rector's disposal.

Amongst the best known Americans in Paris are Mr. Andrew D. Lillie and his family. Mr. Lillie had represented a great American business house in Paris for over fifty years. His eldest daughter is the wife of M. Lambert, the journalist; his youngest daughter the wife of Lieutenant André Fouquier. One morning, very early in September, Mr. Lillie sent us this word,

"A courier has just come from André and he says, 'For God's sake go!' Will you come with us?' Of course we could not go.

One year after that we went to the Church of St. Pierre de Chaillot where a Memorial Mass was said for Lieutenant André Fouquier who sleeps in an unknown grave companied by hundreds of his comrades who sleep beside him.

The first bomb.

On Sunday morning just as the Rector had begun to preach there was a frightful explosion. Everyone sat erect but only three people left the Church and the preaching went quietly on. A bomb had fallen just two blocks from the Church and just beside the house of the Prince of Monaco. Little Denise Cartier had her leg blown off. An old woman was killed. Mr. Herrick had passed the spot where the bomb fell just a few moments before the explosion. When some one congratulated him on his escape he said, "I am not so sure about that; perhaps a dead Ambassador would be more useful in this crisis than a live one."

The Cannon booms so that we often hear it.

It was late afternoon and the days had come when the city had grown strangely still; when you could look down vistas of avenues and see against the grey stones, flags, flags, flags, as multi-colored as the autumn leaves in a forest. The little flower carts were all gone from the street corners and the world within the gates---waited.

Suddenly we heard crying, as if a little lost child were trying to come in. We went out into the Cloisters to see who it might be. We could find no one. Jean and Narcisse (sacristans) were out in the street looking up to the sky; then we saw two or three concierges; they, too, were looking up. None of us could see anything and yet the wailing sound was in our ears. Just then a taube passed over the Church spire and as we watched it we saw on the tip-top of the spire a parrot, crying and alone. No one could reach him and when the night came down he was still there. He went with the night. We afterwards learned that a large consignment of birds had been released at one of the ports and a number of them were found in Paris.

I might tell you, too, how we were besieged with the cats of our neighbourhood. When their owners departed and they were left to forage for themselves, they would crawl through our iron grille and wander around the court hunting for food. The cook put out some scraps of food for them, just at first; but her ill-advised kindness was rewarded by such a beseiging of the premises that we were finally obliged to have our grille lined with fine wire.

September 25, 1914.

This morning at about half-past eleven a card was brought to me and on it was the name of Major Louis Livingstone Seaman, M. D. I came down to receive the man who had the honor to cable President Wilson, in the name of humanity, to protest against the outrages in Belgium: "To prevent the bombarding of Ghent and to protest, too, against bombs from Zeppelins being thrown on Antwerp." The Rector came in while he was still at the Rectory and tomorrow or this afternoon, as can best be arranged he will take him to the Ambulance for a tour of inspection. Major Seaman saw the shots fired from German machines and he helped to care for the wounded. He and Mrs. Seaman will come to us for an hour at tea-time on Monday.

September 28th.

Major and Mrs. Seaman came at half past four this afternoon and with them as one of eight guests was M. Merle d'Aubigny, the nephew of the historian. M. d'Aubigny is one of the workers in the McCall Missions, head of the boy scouts in France, teacher, pastor and beloved and trusted administrator in the work of charity amongst French protestants. Major and Mrs. Seaman know the wide, wide world as most of us know our native village. Mrs. Seaman, who is as gentle as she is charming, wore about her neck a wonderful jade necklace given her by Li-Hung-Chang in Pekin, China. For over a month she and her husband had been in Belgium and they were near Ghent when war was declared. Ghent is an undefended city and when the German Army was very near, Major Seaman sent a cable to President Wilson. The Kaiser had issued an order that the city was not to be bombarded. At once the Burgomaster evacuated the city, sending all the troops out of it and then an armoured German automobile entered it and drew up in front of the town hall demanding the Burgomaster; the car was fired upon by a soldier and immediately the town was fired upon. Major Seaman, with the Burgomaster, assisted in caring for the wounded German soldiers and then they went with other officials to interview the General in command. It was finally conceded that a ransom being paid, liquors and tobacco in large amounts given and the wounded Germans cared for, that the Kaiser's command would be obeyed.

Major and Mrs. Seaman were in Antwerp at the time that the outrages were committed and have helped to send hundreds of families to England and to the south of France; and they say that they have not seen one united family. Children lost and men and women separated. All of our guests were workers amongst the refugees and no one told any story that they did not know, personally.

M. d'Aubigny said many of the things he knew simply could not be told but think of being able to vouch for stories of girls sent to barracks at the point of the bayonet and of mothers killed for protesting.

Madame Piatolwiska told us that her uncle saw the little lad of seven years, who pointed his wooden gun at the German soldiers, shot down by one of them.

Miss Dryden told us of a girl working in her school whose uncle was driven out of his house and afterwards crucified on his own farm. There is more to tell but it is hard to write it down. I made this record on the day the stories were told.

You remember that our hospital in Neuilly is part of America and a channel through which American Charity can express itself; and you remember, too, that we spoke of the "Field Service." Did your boy enlist for that? I believe he did. Anyhow I know you helped buy an Ambulance and so you will be interested in knowing how your boys were cared for. The months were flying, the need of help grew greater every day. Mr. Kipling was still serving and finally it was deemed wise that the Field Service have its own quarters. A beautiful old house at 21 rue Raynouard was taken over for this purpose and Mr. A. Piatt Andrew put in active charge. We have a letter signed "Ann Vanderbilt" (Mrs. W. K. Vanderbilt), acknowledging the gift of eight dozen sheets, eight dozen pillow slips, eight dozen towels and other supplies, which was the gift of the L'Ouvroir de L'Église Américaine for the equipment of this house for American boys.

On May 10th, 1917, there was an interesting ceremony at 21 rue Raynouard in the presence of Mrs. John Mackay and a large number of Americans. Mrs. Mackay's son, Mr. Clarence Mackay, presented the American Field Service with a number of fine American flags. The blessing of the flags was by the Rev'd Dr. Watson, the presentation by Mr. Charles Carroll of Carrollton. All of you who have read "Friends of France" know of the courage and splendid service that our boys rendered. The first martyred boy in that service was Richard Hall, done to death on Christmas eve while Christmas bells in far-away America were ringing. Richard Hall, young, a patriot and a gentleman. His mother came to France and enrolled in the Hospital service for six months. Dartmouth College has for all time to come her own special hero for Dartmouth claims Richard Hall as one of her alumni and remembers his lonely drive on Christmas Eve, his car full of wounded men and the Dartmouth boy dying and dead at the wheel.

Of all the Field Service units whom we knew, "Section Sanitaire No. 3" was the one we knew best. Hats off! They won everywhere affection, honor and admiration for America. Lovering Hill and Charles Baird were two of that Section. We had known them all their lives and we loved to know that they were upholding the traditions to which they were born. After this unit came back from Monastir they came to the Rectory for tea.

"There will be nine of us. That's an awful wallop for one séance in a quiet household," writes Charlie Baird.

Well! to those nine we added Robert Redfield and another man, a man who had had a comrade shot just beside him a few days before.

Robert Redfield said,

"I knew if he could just grip Dr. Watson's hand it would set him up."

The "wallop" came and had tea and coffee and cream and sugar, hot fried mush and jam, salted Algerian peanuts, ice-cream and sponge cake. I used my superlatively best tea-cloth and napkins. There was no bread---we could not eat such bread as we could buy. We saved our sugar for days and used our last extra pound, but it was for the boys from home who, after months---even years in our Field Service, were having a hard time to get into the American Army.

Everybody was anxious to see our hospital, to see what the great specialists, Dr. Hays and Dr. Koenig, were doing; President Poincaré, General Galliéni and a host of official visitors were there in the first few weeks. When the Belgian King's sister, the Duchesse de Vendôme, was to be there for an official visit, I was asked to be present with the Rector to receive her. The Ambassador and Mrs. Herrick were there, General Février and the entire Ambulance staff. You will recall that the Duc de Vendôme is the uncle of the Emperor of Austria and he was present with the Duchesse. They went entirely through the hospital and all the wards, deeply interested in everything they saw and stopping to speak to every patient. In one of the wards there was a black man who made grimaces at me. In the pierced lobes of his ears were stuck bits of matches. We were told that he was rebellious and wretchedly unhappy at being cared for by a woman nurse. He knew no French but the man in the next bed could talk to him in his own patois and to us in French.

"Tell him," I said, "that in two days I will send him a string of beads."

When the sentence was translated the black boy clapped his hands and began to shout at me, pointing to his wrists to signify that he would like bracelets also. Two days later Gabriel (our chauffeur) went out to the hospital with my gift, a string of carved wooden beads tied with a red silk tassel---such beads as the Mohammedans use when saying their prayers. Gabriel told me he was most grieved that I missed the sight of the poor boy's rapture---how he laughed and wept over what to him meant home, and friends.

Mrs. Harry Payne Whitney had in 1914 offered a hospital for use on the Belgian frontier. Military conditions made it impossible that this offer should be accepted for Belgium, but the hospital was established at Juilly and again the equipment of linen was made in the Church's work room, Mrs. Whitney supplying the material used. We never at any time accepted any money compensation for work; so in return for the weeks of labor bestowed on these supplies Mrs. Whitney placed at our disposal bolts of flannel, sweaters, stockings and warm garments. These gifts added very greatly to our possibility of usefulness in the winter of 1914-15.

On March 4th, 1915, Dr. Watson resigned as Chairman of the Ambulance and became Chairman of the Relief Committee of the American Relief Clearing House, remaining in this position until the Clearing House was taken over by the American Red Cross.

Captain Frank Mason was the next Chairman of the Ambulance Committee. All the world of travelers knew Captain and Mrs. Mason and loved them. The Captain was a Republican and was for years, I think about thirty years, in our Consular service. When Mr. Cleveland was made President, Mark Twain wrote to him and said, "Dear Father of all our People", and then he told him how travelers loved the Captain, how much he meant to the world and said American service needed men like that! Captain Mason's last service was when he served the American Hospital. But the task was too heavy for him and after a few months he died. A few weeks later Madame Valois closed Mrs. Mason's eyes. She could not live without the Captain.

On July 31st, 1917, the Board of Governors of the Military Branch of the American Hospital held a meeting. Mrs. W. K. Vanderbilt, who did so much for the Ambulance, was now a member of the board. The Committees of the Ambulance were dissolved and both individually and collectively released from all responsibility for the work now passing into other hands. The Chairman makes acknowledgement of over five thousand articles supplied from the workrooms of Holy Trinity Church, as well as the shrouds used at the burial of all the soldiers who died at the hospital between October 1914 and July 20th, 1917. These shrouds were of heavy white muslin and on each one was sewn a violet silk cross. They covered the dead from head to foot and one woman who came to see her son at the last, said,

"Oh! it's just my boy asleep. How beautiful he looks, like a Prophet."

That was reward enough for all the stitches taken, -the little crosses sewn.

The American Red Cross has its own records of Hospital service but it must never be forgotten that the Hon. Myron T. Herrick and the splendid group of men who surrounded him made all the after story possible. Their ready service, their generous giving; men like Mr. Stuart and Mr. LaChaise joining the ranks of great financiers and professional men, regardless of politics, willingly and gladly took upon themselves the representation of the hearts of all Americans.

I have said very little about our workrooms, where for over three years there were about fifty working women employed under the direct supervision of Miss Winifred Rees, an English lady. The entire staff were dependent on their labour for their daily bread. It is a matter of record that no request was ever made that was not at least in some measure, answered. It was my privilege to stand as intermediary between those who gave and those who received. The women immediately connected with Holy Trinity Church who remained in Paris, were all occupied to the limit of their time and strength and in addition to all the other things they did so finely, they kept "open house" to strangers as well as friends. Until you have done that for three long years, and then welcomed the "boys from home," you will not know how difficult was the task they so generously and so gladly carried forward.

Is it not strange how the bare details of such things as I am writing down for you lie like a veil over the tremendous things that will never be written save in the records the Angels make for God. One day the Angels wrote down a golden word for Jean, our sacristan and for M. W----, our porter. Just over the portal of Holy Trinity is a lovely, loving figure of the Good Shepherd; in His arms a lamb that had been lost. One noontide I came out of the sunny street into the shadowed cloister and the two men, Jean and M. W-----, were there bent over a figure that lay stretched on the stone flags, a man's figure wearing a scarlet blouse. In Jean's hand was a cup of cold water. Later when we went into the Parish house with some soup and bread and wine for the man, Jean said he was an Italian fallen ill by the Church door. They had brought him in and comforted him. Christ must have known and blessed them.

Oh! If I could make you hear the footfalls that echoed in those cloisters---people of every race and every creed---and their prayers were never done. Sometimes a woman veiled in black would come and lay her offering of flowers beside the Altar rail; sometimes a soldier, sometimes a Sister of Charity came; and very often an old man with a little child would rest on the benches near the door, an alert but quiet dog at their feet, America's flag in the dusky corner just over their heads. Then when the nights began to settle down so quickly;---when winter was coming and the haze was thick at twilight; when the heavy curtains were drawn close to keep in the light; then, up in the sky great winged things came, swooping over the city; sometimes they were the silver-winged "Angels of Paris"; sometimes they came from the camps of the enemy hordes. What strange pilgrims the city shelters now, some of the strangest it has ever seen, and it has seen many, for the city is old, old and lovely-grey with Time and it does not exact too much of its children. Some of the pilgrims were in bed at dusk; they could not afford a candle or a fire or anything to eat. Here is just one story of two of them and it is really a story of two wars.

You know, of course, that everything I have written for you is true and this story I heard while I sat in our lovely work-rooms; the pilgrim who told it sat near me drinking hot chocolate and warming herself at the fire. While she rested and talked the firelight made gay dancing lights on the exquisite carved cabinets and the sound of the boys' voices singing the evening hymns came floating in to us.

They had come from the north just a year ago when the Germans entered the town where they lived and these pilgrims were Irish pilgrims, ladies. They had a dear little house and a garden and they had two maid servants and a gardener. They gave Christmas gifts to the village children; they had an old pony and a carriage and in their house were some fine carved chairs with slip covers of faded red silk over the seats.

They would not re-upholster the chairs for they bore the marks of the swords that the German soldiers had used when they slashed the chairs in 1870, hunting for money and silver. Early in the morning, just a year ago she said, there was a sound of hurrying feet and tramp, tramp, tramp over the cobbled streets, the sound of wooden shoes. Quick comes the old gardener, almost breathless with excitement and the ladies who have heard the tramp, tramp, tramp, hear him also and then the bells begin to sound through the village and no words are needed to tell that the German Army is at hand. Quicker than I can write it the drama of that hour moved on. Can't you see it, can't you see it? One half hour,---thirty little hurrying minutes before the last train will leave and they had only begun to dress. They put on the things worn the evening before, house things, light in color and texture, gathering their few jewels and a few personal belongings in a towel and started for the station with one of the maids and the old gardener. The other maid had gone. The gardener carried in his hand a long loaf of bread. They opened the blue gate in their garden wall and shut home behind them as they pulled the door to. At the station all was quiet, but the stricken crowd filled every bit of space in the waiting train. Our pilgrims sat on the straw on the floor of a cattle car and then the train began to move, leaving many for whom there was no place. As their train moved out of the station, four Uhlans came into view. What do you think of that journey of endless discomfort in a train full of bewildered people? They were detained at Compiègne for a few hours and then on to Paris, a part of all that breathless, weary host that came into the city during the first days of the War. They went to a cheap little hotel near the Gare du Nord and took a room, these two ladies; the servants went to a shelter for refugees. After a few desolate days, they faced the future as all this splendid country faced it---bravely. They bought a tiny alcohol stove and a plain dark dress and the younger of the two found work addressing envelopes and making lists of the dead, the wounded and the missing. Sometimes their supper was a handful of hot chestnuts bought from the woman whose charcoal brazier makes a Paris street corner festive even when bombs are falling. The elder woman washed their meagre supply of linen in a little basin and she was often cold, often hungry. Sometimes she shed a few slow tears. By and by the little jewels were sold, the money all gone and another year of war had begun. After a time some one sent them to Holy Trinity Church and the way opened to more of comfort and some possibility of labor that would at least give food in return. They had clothes and shoes from America and they dream of the days when they can go home even if only the garden is left. The tremendous tragedy is really in the life of the older woman. The younger one is lovely to look at, with grey Irish eyes, a dimple in her chin and a coaxing voice. Surely her romance is to come; but the other, the Aunt, well! When she was young she was almost the last of her family and her mother was a widow. She was betrothed to a French officer, when her mother suddenly died. The mother's dearest friend, the Countess of N------, brought the orphaned girl to France to keep her with her until her marriage. Then the War came, the War of 1870 and the young officer was numbered with France's dead. It's a minor tragedy but what is one to say in the face of two invading armies, the loss of the husband, the home and the children she might have had;. and the home she left when she pulled to the blue door in the garden wall!

When the President of the Republic, the Ambassadors of the Allied Nations and all their entourages left Paris for Bordeaux, it was a most tremendously exciting time. The country's gold was gone from Paris; the country's art treasures were hidden away and the enemy was near, very near at hand. The city of Paris waited her fate, gravely, bravely, in the autumn sunshine.

While she waited, the American Ambassador dressed as for an afternoon reception with a flower in his buttonhole and answering salutes with a smile, drove slowly down the Avenue des Champ Elysées in his victoria and the people of the crowds who saw him turned to one another and said,

"It must be all right. See the American Ambassador." And they cheered while he went home to put on a grey business suit and a somewhat battered straw hat, to spend the hours until midnight in helping, guiding, advising and working for his countrymen. It was on the afternoon of that same day that Mrs. Herrick had one of the final meetings of her Committee. During this session a man and woman begged for an audience with her. They were received and asked to state their errand and what do you think it was? They wanted to found an American Club or Society in Paris, the members of which would be known as the "B. K's." Each member was to wear a white button or pin on which the letters B. K. were to be printed in red, the idea being, as they explained, that if you wore a "B. K." button and found your valise too heavy or you lost your way and you met another "B. K.", he would be in honor bound to help you. Isn't that just delightful and somehow like us---I mean of course, us Americans? The plan was vetoed; anyhow there was no one to make the buttons.

That is what they called him in France. Our American Ambassador, Myron T. Herrick, who after service under two administrations,---the end of one, the commencement of another,---returned to America. He was without doubt the most popular Ambassador who has ever been America's representative in France and the reason is not to be found in his wealth or his position, his hospitalities or even his marvelous tact, but in the fact that he is always an American of the most convincing straightforwardness and sincerity. He and Mrs. Herrick made an American home in the heart of the most aristocratic quarter of Paris. When the King of England was in Paris in the spring of 1914 the Parisians got into the way of cheering and our Ambassador had more cheers than anyone, not excepting England's king. Mr. Herrick has given to France a wholly new ideal of Americanism and he has coined a saying that will go down to posterity and that saying is:

It does. Sentiment is that beautiful thing in life without which a man fails in courtesy to his neighbors; it is that which helps a man to see both sides of a question so that he approximates justice in his judgments; and when a man who is preeminently an American adds to gifts of intellect and business ability, Sentiment, it is no wonder that he wins from a friendly nation the soubriquet of "The Good Giant".

These posters were made ready in August, 1914 and, in case the city was taken they were to have been put on all American business houses and all private residences or apartments occupied by Americans; and for Holy Trinity Church the special, extra poster read:

Église Américaine de la Sainte Trinité
23 Avenue de l'Alma, Paris.

Cette Église, ainsi que le presbytère et la maison de bienfaisance, est la propriété d'une Société Américaine, organisée sous une charte Américaine.

Elle est placée sous le haut patronage de l'Ambassade des États Unis d'Amérique.

The Ambassador had arranged for the use of the cellars in the houses near the Embassy and was prepared to shelter, part at least, of the remnants of the American colony now remaining in Paris, in case the city were bombarded.

On September 9th, word reached through the Embassy in Rome from the German General Staff, that "all Americans would better leave Paris"? Imagine the Ambassador's dilemma. He could not ignore the advice nor could he publish it out of hand and create a panic. So after long consultation with James Gordon Bennett it was decided to publish the following statement:

The American Ambassador for some time past has been advising Americans to leave Paris. Most of the tourists have left, but a number of residents still remain. The Ambassador now feels that, for obvious reasons, it is advisable for all Americans residing in Paris, to leave."

Of course every one wanted an explanation. The explanation could not be given so Mr. Herrick continued to smile and to advise Americans to go home, just as he had advised from the very first.

Thanksgiving Day, 1914, just at half-past seven in the evening the Ambassador and Mrs. Herrick received for the last time their official family and we all dined with them at the Embassy, forgetting bare rooms as we sat around the table; our flag and the tricolor at each plate, each plate with its Eagle crest and E. Pluribus Unum; and we drank a toast to Home and the friends who would leave us two days later. How near we felt to that little group. The next evening we gathered once more, this time in Mr. Bliss' house, but no one remained very late and as soon as Mrs. Herrick, her hands full of violets, had gone, we all went home.

The night that ended in a grey, cold dawn was all too short and eight o'clock found us at the Quai d'Orsay, the station platforms actually black with men and women of every rank and many nations. There were two French officers from the American hospital. One had lost an arm---his right one. Over his left arm lay a splendid sheaf of crimson roses tied with streamers of tri-colored ribbon. As he offered them to Mrs. Herrick he spoke the words that all France echoed,

"Madame! It is with regret that I serve you with only one hand but all France serves you with its heart!"

The record of the service to the world in 1914 that. Mr. Herrick gave, the unselfish, lovely example of Mrs. Herrick's leadership in Charity, will never all be written even when he himself tells the story of his administration of Germany's official interests; of his services to England when Lord Bertie and the English Embassy left Paris and when Americans needed him most. On his homeward journey he wrote:

A Bord du Rochambeau.
on Dec. 6, 1914.

Dear Dr. Watson:

You can never know with what sad hearts we left Paris. While much waits us at home I would gladly have passed it all by in order to have continued where I hope still to be of service to the dear comrades whom I leave reluctantly behind and I shall never find closer or truer relationships.

Our affectionate greetings to you and Mrs. Watson and tell them all at the hospital that we are brokenhearted to leave them.

Yours Always,

MYRON HERRICK.

The following is an extract from a letter from The Rt. Rev'd William A. Leonard, D. D., written after Mr. Herrick's return:

"Ambassador Herrick is presenting the cause of the Hospital, I think very effectively. He has had many important meetings. Everybody wants to know and hear him. I am told that in New York alone he declined two hundred and twenty invitations to dinner. I heard him at the Ohio banquet where he was greeted with affectionate enthusiasm."

Paris had begun, by this time, to adjust herself to War conditions, so it was, after all, not so surprising when one day a friend left a little packet, with her card on which was written, "I hope you will not need these masks but it is safest to have them on hand." They were gas masks. They lay on our bedside tables for over three years, ready for use.

The friend was la Duchesse de Talleyrand, known to America as Anna Gould. If any woman of American birth deserves honor and thanks at the hands of her native land, it is she. The Stars and Stripes floated from her house on the Avenue du Bois, with the tricolor; floated there from the first hour of the War. Her two eldest sons fairly won their honors. The second son refused to accept an officer's commission, preferring to win his stripes in the service. Needless to say, they were bravely won. In September, 1914, the Duchesse sent a note to my husband, offering him, for whatever purpose he deemed wisest, the use of the building which she owns at 25 rue Pierre Charron. This building was erected in memory of her mother and is loaned for Charities, Bazaars, etc., etc. Shortly after the organization of the Clearing House it became the supply depot for that organization. Following the closing of the Clearing House by the American Red Cross, the building was next used for one of the depots and work shops of the "Surgical Dressings Committee." Through more than three years, the entire cost of the upkeep, heat and light was met by the Duchesse. The building, "The Helen Miller Gould Foundation," deserves a bronze placque from America to mark the use that honored it in America's name. From the first day of the War our friend was at work for the soldiers. The Duc had gone for his service and Madame began her charities. To the station at Auberville she went with taxis full of comfortable chaises-longues for the soldiers who must remain there overnight, or between trains. The place was comfortless. She installed hot water, baths and a reading room with a cinema and finally a little chapel. Her young children had been sent away to the south and one day a message came from the Duc telling her to go to their Château, "La Mairie", (about two hours by motor from Paris) and to have the special treasures walled up and then to have the wheels taken from all vehicles and placed in the pièce d'eau. This was done and then, so near were the Germans to Paris, that she too went away. As modest as she is generous, it was only her nearest friends who knew of her gifts. The aviators who were welcomed at La Mairie will never forget the kindness received at her hands nor will those made welcome at Valençay by the Duc's brother ever forget that wonderful spot and its old gardens. Some of the American Y. M. C. A. men can testify to the hospitality of the Talleyrand palace in Paris. I am sure they will never forget the simple, friendly kindness of either host or hostess. How genuine that hospitality was may perhaps be best understood when I tell you what I heard two of the boys say.

"Gee! weren't the eats good and I say, I like the Duc. How about it?"

"Some people, Buddy---some house. Why I almost felt like home."

* * * * *

April 10th, 1915.

The American Aviators say that they are just standing around for want of machines or else using French ones and the French need their own. It seems as though we should have machines---we have been in the War for a year now.

Four aviators, Americans---came to call upon me on Saturday. They did not know me but were homesick. We made them welcome, they dined with us and again last night. A jolly delightful group of boys whom we enjoyed very much . . . ."

ANNA DE TALLEYRAND.

I hope it does not bore you to read the details of the "Works of Mercy" which were ministered in your name in France. If it does,---well,---just read them anyhow for they mean in result "bread for the hungry, clothes for the naked"; and some of it means comfort for the dying, far from home and old friends.

There had been for many years an "American Relief Committee" in Paris. The accredited agent in this distribution was M. Tesseyre, Sacristan-en-chef and undertaker at Holy Trinity Church. The funds used by this Committee were voluntary gifts, mostly from Americans abroad. By late October, 1914, M. Tessayre was a prisoner in Germany and there were no funds whatever except a very small amount sent to Dr. Watson for American Relief. These sums he used, very largely, through the Embassy and this after His Excellency, the Hon. William G. Sharp had assumed his post as American Ambassador. Again and again the Embassy sent Americans with notes asking for monetary assistance saying they had none to offer. The assistance was given as long as Dr. Watson had funds for American use, so that the state became more than once the Church's almoner in the case of needy American citizens. By 1915 Dr. Watson felt that he could no longer carry the responsibility and His Excellency the Ambassador took over this particular Charity and made a new appointment.

Very early in the war the group of men who were gathered about the Ambassador realized that the war would not be over very soon; that much would be handled in the way of Relief supplies and that money and supplies must be accounted for. Before Mr. Herrick left France he established the War Relief Clearing House and by the courtesy of the Count de Ganay, the charming old Embassy at 5 rue François Ier became the home of American Relief, as it had been for many years the home of American hospitality. The men who undertook the administration of this trust stood for all that is finest in American life. Without salaries or compensation of any sort they gave not only sympathetic help but they gave intelligent help. They were men who represent America's business interests in France,---had lived there for years and spoke the language of the country.

President, H. Herman Harjes; Vice-President, Whitney Warren; Director Gen'l, H. O. Beatty;(5) Secretary, Mr. Charles Carroll; Assistant Secretary, Mr. Randolph Mordecai; Treasurer, Hon. J. Ridgley Carter; Executive Committee: H. Herman Harjes, Chairman; Charles Carroll, Rev'd Dr. S. N. Watson, George Munroe, J. J. Hoff, Ralph J. Preston, James R. Barbour, M. P. Peixotto, Walter Abbott, H. O. Beatty, Whitney Warren, Randolph Mordecai, Hugh R. Griffin, James H. Hyde, Chas. R. Scott, Hon. Secretary.

Representatives of France, Russia, Belgium, Italy, Serbia and Montenegro met at stated times with the Executive Committee to advise as to the needs of these countries and of their countrymen both in France and at home. The Committee resolved itself into various smaller Committees and the Rev'd Dr. S. N. Watson became Chairman of the Relief Committee, remaining in this position until the American Red Cross absorbed the Clearing House.

By this time the "Cher Clearings" was a beloved institution in France. It had created a large General Committee and was of tremendous service.

What high courage and generous giving sustained the men who carried this great work; and how they met each new appeal for help. France had come to the hour when there were blind soldiers in great numbers to be cared for. I can always see them in their old faded blue, with hands or canes outstretched as they walked the beautiful avenues with the halt and the maimed and with nurses and friends. So much money was needed---and the first source of help was the "Cher Clearing". At the Théâtre National de l'Odéon there was given a matinée.

M. Alexandre Georges wrote the music for the series of pictures arranged by M. André M. Ferrier. There were one hundred voices in the Choir and thousands of people in the audience. The pictures told the story of the birth of the Marseillaise and the whole affair was arranged by "The American War Relief Clearing House". On the great stage, with the diplomatic notabilities were grouped several hundred soldiers---the sick and hurt, blind men and men on crutches guarded by nurses, and then some of the men were borne in on stretchers. M. Alexandre Georges sat next to us and his autograph is on my programme which is with the papers saved for you. The flame of genius that blazed so high in the night of April 25th, 1792, blazed up again and it seemed as though Rouget de Lisle must himself be present. How shall I tell you of the fugue whose theme was the National Hymn of France, of how those broken men and we who faced them tried to sing the Chants of the Allied Nations and of how the song ended in tears! How can I tell you what it was like when Chenal came, typifying France, and sang---oh! how she sang,

Verse after verse until at the end the sword flashed from under the tricolor and soldiers and citizens, all sang with her,

"Aux armes, citoyens,
Formez vos bataillons---
           Marchons, Marchons------"

When the song ended, she was singing alone and we saw her through a mist of tears. We can never see or hear anything like that again.

Every penny taken from that festival was used for the blind and the mutilated. The record of the Clearing House and its actual achievements have all been kept.

When the American Red Cross came to France in 1917, it came as a part of the American Army, so like it in outward appearance that none but the very initiated could tell the insignia. When the Red Cross came it absorbed the Clearing House.

"Come, oysters dear", the Walrus cried -----. You know how the oysters wiped off a tear or so; but with as much of courtesy as they had shown of generosity the members of the Clearing House undertook a share in the new day's work and Madame Siegfried's name for it, "Cher Clearing", is all that those who made it possible ask in praise.

This is not an advertisement. It is a testimony to the fact that corporations have souls,---at least the American ones have. The very first week that work rooms were opened in Paris, the Singer Sewing Machine Company offered to lend new machines to assist in the work. Two were loaned to our own workrooms and the last I knew of the affair they were still used, still being kept in repair, with no charges of any sort. You think that that is a little thing perhaps but those machines hummed all day long working for America.

He had run away from New York and shipped on a vessel bringing horses to France. He somehow or other was debarked at Marseilles and finally landed in Paris, an American born boy. The gentlemen of the Clearing House finally arranged for his passage home.

He came to us late one afternoon with a note from Mr. Abbott asking us to see that he had clothes and shoes. Of course his needs were met.

"Say, Lady!", he said, "is this the same Church as Trinity in New York?"

"The very same," I answered.

"Well then, I want to give you a warning about that. If they don't look out in New York, Trinity's going to get cracks on account of the subway." "Is there anything you want me to do, ma'am, when I get home?"

"Yes! go to old Trinity and go inside and then just kneel down and thank your Father in Heaven that wherever His Church is found, boys from home find friends and help."

I am quite sure that you are wondering why I have given you the details of these first American organizations when you know there must have been, what our earliest helpers from home called "thrilling experiences." You will never read statistics even if any one ever publishes them; you know much that gave our Starry Banner its place with the other flags, but I know you will let us talk our hearts out to you since we stood for you until you came; and some of us were hurt body and soul long before America took its rightful place. Mrs. Thackara had organized a workroom early in 1914. Here pansements and surgical supplies were made and after her death, the work was carried on until 1918 under the direction and in the apartment of Mrs. Wilson, of whom all Baltimoreans are so rightly proud. Mrs. Wilson. had with her a group of American women that never failed her as long as her workrooms were open and when they were not working with her they were caring for blinded men. Women like Mrs. Wayne Cuyler and Mrs. Brown who gave money, time and personal service without stint.

Miss Gassette, so well known in Chicago, wears the Legion of Honor. She began her service with the American Ambulance but before long she was making all sorts of surgical appliances and the work done by the men and women who were her aids was a gift to the needy. Mrs. Duryea has told her story as far as it can be written down. After all records are very inadequate. Then there is the page on which one writes the record made by Mrs. Robert Woods Bliss. Mrs. Bliss maintained a supply depot and a distribution service. She gave France an ambulance train service and was personally a fairy godmother to many a struggling hospital. She, of course, administered gifts for her friends but her work was begun and maintained as her own and her husband's offering. The Surgical Dressings Committee was a tiny child when it began its work in France. Dr. Watson saw that coal was supplied for the workrooms during the first two years of its work and Madame Waddington and the Marquise de Talleyrand first gave it standing in Paris. There was the "French Emergency" and all the other "helps" that began so early in the War. You all have friends amongst them; many of the friends have written modest stories of what was heroic service that has given America a place apart in French hearts. No one of them is really forgotten but trying to put the memory of them in words makes me think of a day in 1916, when Madame Salambier (Secretary at the American Embassy through three administrations) came to our workrooms and said,

"Dear Madame, Mrs. Herrick has written to me to ask you if you can use in any way, the old livery that the men servants at the Embassy wore. They are all packed away but if you can use them the lingère, who has them, will bring them to you, all but the shoe buckles and the buttons on which are your country's eagles."

A few days later I stood in front of a long table and there was the chauffeur's warm blue coat, near it a little cockade from his hat; then carefully laid out were knee breeches in black velvet, yellow vests, long trousers, coats, low shoes and piles of good white stockings. The table and the four walls about me faded away; and I saw all those kindly, well-mannered men in the flesh once more; I saw friends coming and going at the Embassy and suddenly the lights were twinkling and it was Christmas Eve, 1913. According to old tradition all Holy Trinity Choir Boys were keeping Festival at the Embassy. Major Cosby was flying a kite dangerously near the chandelier, Laurence Norton was spinning a top, Mrs. Herrick was opening a box for the littlest boy. My tears fell on the little cockade. The hospital in Casino at La Baule had all those happy garments to use for the men who must lie long hours in the sunshine by the sea before they could be well again.

The people who are really kind are never forgotten.

Before the War it was "The Americans who are so rich."

In 1916 it was "The Americans who are so kind."

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