The evening grows late and you tell me that the little group who have been reading these pages have only two more evenings together before they must separate. Nothing really ends,---one just makes a final paragraph and writes "finis". But before you go you must know André, the most beautiful boy we ever saw, refugee from Lille. André who was just five and on his birthday came to the American Church to give thanks and to offer a boy's prayers for America, André who brought his birthday gift of four pennies to my husband and asked that he use them for "American poors". We gave that little boy a small American flag (it came in a box from Texas) and months afterwards there was a celebration in the village where André was living. American flags were everywhere flying in the breeze with the flags of the Allies. André's family had no money to buy a flag but André hung out the little flag from Texas on his balcony. His aunt suggested that it was "very small". Nothing daunted André announced:

Then there was Yves, too, whose story ends like this:

"Someone told my mother that we have no house and no village any more. It is not true, because you know my mother has the key to our house in her pocket".

Just over the mountains from Aix-les-Bains and not more than a two hours' journey from the Swiss border, the American flag is beloved almost as much as the French flag. It may seem strange to you that this should be true especially as this part of France is not on the great highway. American commerce sends its representatives everywhere and the American known throughout France as representing the Standard Oil Company is Mr. John Jacob Hoff.

Mr. and Mrs. Hoff spend much of their time in the Valley of the Ain at the Château de Peyrieu. They command great wealth but they are, both of them, as modest as they are generous, standing always for America's best traditions. They have made our flag a thing beloved in all that part of France. At Christmas time in 1916, the struggle had become a terrible war and men had no illusions as to the price they must pay to be free. Christmas came and hearts turned homeward and still cannon boomed and battles were fought. Château de Peyrieu is not very far from the town of Bellay and Bellay is on the Paris, Lyon and Méditerranée railroad. Just outside the Bellay station, on Christmas Eve, 1916, there suddenly appeared a great fir tree. It bore such marvelous flowers that every passing train was halted that every soldier might have his own Christmas bouquet. At night the tree was lighted and it bloomed from Christmas Eve until New Year's Day dawned. The flowers it bore looked like big linen handkerchiefs filled with all sorts of gifts, and there was a Merry Christmas to the soldiers from Mr. and Mrs. Hoff. Mr. Hoff is a Chevalier of the Legion of Honor and one of France's highways bears his name; and he and Mrs. Hoff belong on America's honor roll.

Madame Waddington whose letters you have read, was not only a help to France and her allies during the War, but it was to her drawing room that we all gravitated sooner or later. She and her sister Miss King (daughters of President King of Columbia University). were deeply interested in everything pertaining to America's part in the War. Hundreds of people brought letters and cards to them and the firelight from their hearth gave cheer to many a bewildered stranger. Madame Waddington has given her time and her service to charities of every sort. In France, if you are an Ambassadrice, you keep your title and its resultant pleasures as long as you live and in Madame Waddington's case the title is not an empty honor. She has such charm and distinction that she is the title. The autographed photographs of great men and women which one sees in her drawing room testify to the affection which she has won for herself.

Shall we go for a little motor journey today? We would like to take you to Mantes, called "Mantes, le Joli". We can follow the river for many miles and after we have crossed it, part of our drive will be through a pine forest where the ground is rosy with heather in bloom. Just here at the railroad station they brought a lot of terribly wounded men one day when it was sunny. The station became a temporary hospital and so many things were needed instantly, most of all ether and cotton. Mr. Ridgway Knight was passing through Mantes that day and he hurried to Paris for supplies. You have no idea how difficult it was to meet immediate needs but we had two cases of ether (kept for an emergency) and a supply of cotton that Mrs. Stevens had sent from Brunswick, New Jersey. Mr. Knight loaded it all in a taxi and took it to a train and in a very few hours he was back at the station in Mantes helping to care for the wounded, just as he helped in his own little town of Rosny. No one needs any introduction to Mr. Knight since he is one of our best known painters. He is old enough in years to be very young in heart and very wise. Like all Americans in France he worked in America's name. He was a close friend of James Gordon Bennett and in the days when Mr. Bennett drove his coach-and-four he and his guests would include in the afternoon's journey, tea at Mr. Knight's house in Poissy. Poissy has come a little too near civilization for a painter like Mr. Knight and he lives above the Seine at Rosny with Mr. Herbert Ward for his neighbour. Not very far from Rosny there was the Rolleboise Hospital under the direction of Doctor and Madame Lebaudy. (She is a princess of the house of Murat.) Oh! how they worked, and how long the years grew as the terrible months passed. Mr. Knight helped them; through him we could let you help a little and then Mr. Knight opened his house in Poissy for convalescent soldiers; and so another bond was made between America and France. The boats going up and down the Seine could see the Stars and Stripes floating from Mr. Knight's flagstaff and those of us who saw the Paris Edition of the New York Herald were familiar with the sketches which Mr. Knight made for Mr. Bennett's paper. One of these sketches depicts America sitting looking at a map and underneath the map these words:

You and I know that it was already America's turn.

The bitterest thing that man or nation has to bear is betrayal by those whose honour they have never questioned. In every nation there are traitors and in every army. There are traitors for gold, traitors for power and sometimes traitors for a false ideal; but it is always true that whenever man or nation must explain their code of honour, it is not honour but conscious dishonour that demands the explanation. We are individually and nationally responsible for what we see and know to be right. Hundreds of times since my husband and I have been at home we have been asked:

Why, of course we worked. Of course we gave,---gave time, money and strength. We sent our nurses and our doctors. At Christmas time 1914, there was a Christmas party for wounded French soldiers at the Hotel Ritz in Paris. Mrs. Tower Reilly (the sister of Charlemagne Tower) gave the party. There were American flags everywhere. American men and women to talk to the wounded and American gifts for the soldiers. Hundreds of Americans had come to France to serve; but we must not forget that America was neutral. You would not wish to magnify too greatly your material gifts because you feel that it is what you are that counts and not what you give. You can give without loving but you can not love without giving. What Europe waited for was America's Moral Support, her protest against the invasion of Belgium,---and then when that had not come---against the sinking of the Lusitania.

That shocked you terribly, but our hearts grew cold and we felt so far away when the Lusitania went down and Germany struck medals in honor of the event. I have seen the medals. Oh! I tell you it was hard to bear the shame of neutrality then. There was the protest of the "Five Hundred"; there were all sorts of private protests but nothing mattered except America and what she did.

One grey afternoon early in the War, Victor Murdock of the Progressive Party came into our workrooms. He wanted an interview with my husband and what he wanted to know about was the "religious revival in France". Mr. Murdock did not speak French but he was keenly intelligent and somewhat amusing. He had his interview with the Rector on the following day and he wrote an unusually discriminating article for Collier's Magazine but he seemed to think that he could find influence done up in bundles like the fagots one lays on the fire, and the visible piety in crowded churches with all the people shouting Amen to stirring exhortations. Sometimes the churches were crowded but not often. There are so many of them,---they are always open. There are shrines and crosses and the people are always stealing a moment for peace and silence and then going on for their task or their pleasure. We all prayed and talked to God and He answered the prayers and often people were conscious that He walked in their midst. You need not ask me to prove it. If you doubt it, the burden of the proof lies with you.

When one reads history one sometimes is in the state of mind of the old woman to whom St. Paul had been quoted in matters pertaining to conduct.

I have no doubt that you differ from many of the opinions I have quoted for you, but they are history just as it was lived by men and women who fought and suffered in France.

Christmas, 1914, saw a lot of American men serving the Foreign Legion and most of those men are dead. We like to remember that we sent them your gifts of food and clothing for Christmas and that the Duchesse de Talleyrand sent them all sorts of good things for a Christmas dinner. My husband had the following telegram on that Christmas Eve:

"Your gifts to the American Volunteers in my company have been distributed and I cannot tell you how greatly they are appreciated. We were sadly in need of the things you sent and the arrival of them could not possibly be better timed. Yesterday we returned from the advance post, Caonelle, dirty, unkempt, fatigued and sleepless. Today we feel like new men and best of all is the thought of the Americans who are with us."

E. MORLAC.

I ask you to bear in mind this telegram for it is part of a story of which you will be very proud when you have heard the ending. Then just next to the telegram I have put the record of a young soldier known and loved as an American. The honor he won is ours:

Now we come back to the question Mr. Murdock asked about influence. This time it was a question of your influence. Slowly your personal power made itself felt and then on Good Friday, 1917, a very curious thing happened. We had hung out our flags in 1914. There was one over the far portal of the Church that was tightly wrapped about its staff on the day that the Lusitania was sunk. We were all too busy to touch it, too busy to think of it, but on Good Friday when the Rector went out, there was the flag flying, snapping in the breeze. Just a little grey around the edges, the heart of it all brilliant, the stars undimmed. He called Jean, the Sacristan, to ask him who had unrolled the flag but no one had climbed up to it,---it was just a breeze from heaven that set the flag free on the day that we were with the Allies.

The emotions of that day were almost unbearable. Wherever Americans met hands were clasped and but few words spoken; but heads were high and at once we began to speak of "our boys", to plan for the welcome that should be ready for them and for the comforting they would be sure to need. On that day, April 4th, 1917, a French officer sent the following letter to his father-in-law who is an American:

This afternoon they telephoned me (Staff of a Division of Infantry) that the U. S. A. had broken relations with the piggish Boche. I am mad with joy and congratulate you. We telephoned at once to the people in the trenches. I can see your excitement. I paid the "popotte", a bottle of Burgundy, and we drank Wilson's health. It is the best moral blow, "flanque", for the Boche. They must be mad. We speak of nothing else. I really did not expect it. I suppose you put flags on your balconies and one on top of your silk hat Stars and Stripes forever."

Max

There was no need to mark time for America any more. Every mail brought letters from our own land commending boys and men as well as girls to the Rector's care and courtesy. The strain began to grow too great to be borne. Since July, 1914, we had been using every faculty to its limit and it was now. May, 1917. The Rector had given orders that no matter how tired he was or what he was doing he would always receive anyone wearing the United States uniform. So far as was possible we made all Americans who came welcome at our table and they came in endless numbers---"Rich men, poor men, beggar men, thieves, doctors, reporters, nurses and Red Cross chiefs"; and also Bishops and Clergy.

The cook still managed to provide us with food but even the servants were tired to death and for our friends who were arriving from America the War had just begun. What was true of our household was true of all American households in France.

Perhaps the very hardest thing that we had to bear was the fact that our countrymen were so little interested in anything that Americans had sponsored before America was officially in the War. It gave us all a little feeling of loneliness. We had so fully realized the need of America's coming and we felt that we had been the advance guard.

Monsieur Paul Painlevé was now Minister of War and he had long been numbered amongst our friends. My husband had been the guest of honor at his table, dining there with the men who mould public opinion in France, the editors of the leading Revues and with them were some of France's greatest financiers. M. Painlevé is a brilliant scholar, a man of quick decisions and an almost incredible capacity for concentration ---and work. One night when he dined with us our maître-d'hôtel was at home on permission. He had been absent for months and had arrived home that morning to find us preparing for guests.

"Alexis", I said, "you and Louise are free tomorrow to spend your holiday wherever you like until you must go back."

"I would like best to stay just here, Madame," he answered, "the stair carpet needs arranging. It's a wonder it is not threadbare. I shall have hardly time enough for the things needed. If Madame permits, I will serve the dinner tonight. The extra man may help me. Would it not be better that we shave our mustaches? I do not know what France is coming to when a maître-d'hôtel will appear with mustaches!"

Well! our guests came, editors and men from America, all men known to the wide, wide world. The room was in shadow, the only light came from the candles on the table. As always my husband led the talk to America, to the real heart meaning of her life, and the Frenchmen discussed questions pertinent to the need of the hour. The shadowed room invited confidences. After a time my husband proposed a toast to the French poilu and instantly the Minister of War was on his feet:

"To our soldiers!" he said, and turning to Alexis he raised his glass,

"To this soldier of France!"

It was very touching to see the dignity of those two men, both of whom were serving France.

Now letters began to come, many of them like this one written by Mrs. James Gordon Bennett from Beaulieu on April 8, 1917.

"Dearest Mrs. Watson:

I wish I were in Paris now to share your joy at the fulfillment of all our wishes. At last we can hold up our heads as being with the Allies. Dr. Watson must have been proud to see our flag joined to the Allies' flags. Down here the enthusiasm is intense. Nice is covered with our flags. Preparations look serious in America. It has been a long wait. I am so pleased for Bennett's sake; he feels it so keenly and the letters and telegrams he has received have given him much joy. My dear Ronnie is in the Cadet Training Corps working for his commission in the Grenadier Guards. He is not eighteen but he would go. . .

MAUD BENNETT

Mr. Bennett had made a trip to America to interview the President and to urge America's participation in the War. Mr. James Stillman made his last journey home to America for the same purpose. Mr. Stiliman's house in Paris was a hospital; he himself was active in many charities. He came to luncheon with us just before he took that last trip and I have not forgotten how he looked when he said:

"I have only limited strength now; my heart is pretty weary but I must go. The President must know all that we know of the need for our immediate action."

Then one of my husband's classmates at Trinity College joined the ranks of the prophets and wrote the "Battle Hymn of Democracy". Some day the world will have learned to live that hymn and Edward Van Zile's vision will be fulfilled:

" . . . Race shall speak to race;
And man, no longer slave to man,
Can look God in the face."

But that is still the prophet's vision and before it is fulfilled in the splendid "by and by", men must make the world-old offering of a living life for a life unborn. There must be those who shall say with Alan Seeger:

and there are those who must just be taken and offered up.

Louis Baudouin is the grandson of our friend Manuel Baudouin who died for France and Louis was the first person to send us congratulations on July 4, 1917. It was on this day that our men entered Paris. How can I describe that day to you? The city was a blaze of flags and there was sunshine. General Pershing and his Staff had arrived in Paris on Wednesday, June the thirteenth.

"In their person Paris had honored the young Army that was to fight side by side with the soldiers of France,---a young army which was acclaimed as coming to fight in utter unselfishness for Liberty and for Justice". Americans in Paris had held out both hands in welcome to their own Army and every one was prepared to serve with America as faithfully as they had served for her.

The Rector sent the following letter to our Commander.

Église de la Sainte Trinité
23 Avenue de l'Alma
Paris

"My dear General Pershing:

With all my compatriots I am glad to extend to you the warmest of welcomes here and in particular I wish to offer you any service that the American Church or its Rector can render to you and the men serving with you in France. The Rector's pew is at your service for yourself or your Staff.

Faithfully yours,

SAMUEL N. WATSON"

The welcome that that letter contains is typical of what was offered by all Americans to our Army.

On July 4, 1917, Paris welcomed the American troops. Emotions were so stirred that people were gay and singing one moment and standing still with lifted hats the next. Our own first glimpse of the troops was in the Court of Honor in "The Invalides" and the dust of Napoleon must have stirred in that hour.

We left the Rectory early. Mr. and Mrs. Carroll were with us in the automobile and with us was a flag, just a common bunting flag. Why do you suppose we carried it? You remember the American Volunteers in the Foreign Legion? You remember that they went early in 1914? Well, this was their flag and now one who had never been neutral was to present that Flag to France. Miss Stevens, the Volunteers' godmother, had the bronze placque made on which were the names of the Volunteers. The Minister of War had received the Rector's request that the flag might be given to France and had not only accepted the gift but had made the giving and receiving a part of all America's story in France. The Rector had gotten a rosewood staff and silken cords for our banner and now it was with us. The streets were a sea of people. We crossed the Pont d'Alexandre with its golden lions and were soon at The Invalides. The Rector and Mr. Carroll went to take their place and. part in the immortal ceremony, Mrs. Carroll and I to join the group who forgot all the world and the throngs about us in watching the great drama unroll itself before our eyes. The galleries of the court were packed solid with people, admission was by card and the spectators represented every phase of life. The Diplomatic Representatives were seated on a slightly raised platform and at the far end of the court were the captured German aeroplanes. Overhead the blue sky, and now and again the flash of silver wings as a French plane darted through the air. The excitement grew tense as we waited and then----

The blue uniform of the French territorials of the Two Hundred and Thirty-Seventh comes into view; like a kaleidoscope the scene changes. In the twinkling of an eye the faded blue is part of the background for the "young Army", for our boys. As they came we saw you and our land from the Atlantic to the Pacific, and to the Great Lakes; saw the hooded emigrant wagons going to the far West; buffaloes; Indians; saw the roses that bloom in Texas and the buried river in the Ozarks; Boston Common and Lincoln's portrait hanging in my father's house. It is perfectly tremendous what one sees and feels in an instant like that and all the while those sons of America were swinging forward and the watchers who had been spellbound began to cheer and to throw kisses. Very soon there was a hollow square about the court and within it stood the deputation from Puy, patrie de Lafayette, with their flag and its beautiful apron of lace; then there was the deputation with the General's guidon and there was the Rector who was to present the Volunteers' flag to France.

And still the picture was not all set, for now comes the President of the Republic, the Minister of War, General Pershing, General Dubail, General Foch, the Presidents of the Chamber of Deputies and of the Senate, officers and Generals both French and American. There was a blare of bugles and the ceremony of presenting the flags had begun. The whole scene before our eyes was deeply moving and cheers and tears testified to the feelings of the multitude. Very naturally the thing nearest my heart was the presentation of the Volunteers' Flag. And after the Guidon and the flag from Puy had been presented to America in the person of General Pershing, it was America's turn to make her gift to France, the moment for giving their place of honor to the Americans of the Foreign Legion. The Rector came forward, accompanied by Mr. Charles Carroll carrying the flag. Both of them are descendants of American colonial families. The Rector addressed himself first to General Pershing in these words:

"General Pershing, it is my privilege today to commit to the care of France this flag on behalf of our first soldiers who came here to serve in this great cause, our American soldiers of the Foreign Legion who for the love of liberty and for the love of France, enrolled themselves in the French Army in 1914. They were proud to give all that they had to give and we are proud of them. They were the pioneers of that great American army which comes now under your leadership, and the advance guard leaves to you and to yours the task they so bravely commenced. Now your new standard will replace their bullet-pierced flag; your banner will now lead the American hope, whilst theirs is confined to their beloved France, that she may keep it forever close to her heart in that shrine of the nation, the Musée de Invalides."

Then turning to the right where stood that fine old veteran, General Niox, with the officers of his Staff, the Rector addressed him as follows:

"General,---I am deeply touched by this honor of being today the representative of a little group of my countrymen in bringing you this flag, their flag which they so deeply loved, loved even to death. And they loved it for that which it represents; its azure field where float the eternal stars represents the infinite, the absolute, where unerring justice lives; its rays of white are the emblem of that truth which never falters and these bars of red are the rivers of their blood which those who love justice and truth have always poured out freely in their defense and to guard them for the children of tomorrow.

What a prophetic thing it has been, this flag, the first American flag which floated over the heads of those who were fighting on the soil of France for the ideals for which the Star-Spangled Banner stands and which have always been the life and the soul of France. Our brave boys of the Legion could not carry their flag openly like the standard of the leader who heads his soldiers as they go over the top. But it was their battle flag for all that; one and another they carried this flag wrapped about their bodies as a girdle girdling up the strength of their heart; one and another they were wounded, they were killed bearing it on their bodies; and it is thus that the American flag received its first baptism of blood in this struggle where now it has taken the place that belonged to it by right. This flag then was the prophecy of all that has happened. Now that the great republic from beyond the sea has come to take its place in deed and fact here where its heart has always been, and in tribute to our comrades who have died for their beloved France, I beg you to accept this treasure for which they paid the price of their lives. May it be an inspiration also to the living to be worthy of these pioneers who have preceded them on the path of eternal liberty, fighting to win justice back to the world."

In the heart of Paris, which is the heart of France, now rests the first American flag which was carried on the French Front in this glorious struggle. It is surrounded by, protected by great walls of stone all insensible to the honour which is theirs; but the remembrance of those who bore that flag out there where it received its first baptism will be kept in the hearts of every loyal American and Frenchman forever.

When the Rector had finished speaking Mr. Charles Carroll of Carrolton stepped forward and as he came General Niox, guardian of The Invalides, advanced to meet him. Cheer after cheer made music to those friends of France who had seen the Volunteers go in 1914.

When you go to Paris you will want to see your starry banner, the only flag not a battle trophy in the Chapel where it hangs.

Once again the scene changes and we are en route for the Cimetière de Picpus, the peaceful old garden where Lafayette's ashes lie. Entrance to the Cimetière was, of course, necessarily by invitation and the presiding genius of the occasion was Mr. Cleveland Cox of the Sons of the Revolution. The Convent at the gate of the Cimetière was adorned with flags and on the terrace where stood a number of the sisters in their white woolen dresses and capes, the flaming colors of the Sacred Heart embroidered on the white dress, and on their heads white fluted coifs bound about with black ribbons. Without-the narrow streets were packed with people, but within the garden walls all was peace and quiet and the Sisters of the Sacred Heart watched the soldiers come. Under the shade of the trees were groups of French people and groups of Americans. Amongst these last army officers whose services in France had just begun and with them Americans who had served as long as service had been needed. There was America's Ambassador, his Excellency William G. Sharp; with Colonel E. E. Stanton and General Pershing and there was Brand Whitlock who has lived so greatly that one writes his name as one writes Roosevelt's name. These men all spoke at Lafayette's tomb and the French Minister of War spoke for France, while General Joffre stood near him amongst those who listened. The ceremonies had just begun when our troops followed the French troops down the long, gravelled walk. They were decked with garlands of flowers and one tall soldier called out as he passed:

"Any one here an American?"

My hand went up as I answered for my country.

"Will you take my flowers and flag?" called the soldier.

Oh I You know I took them and the soldier's flag is in America today. The chances are that the man who gave it died in France.

That same day the President of the Municipal Council of Paris received our soldiers at the Hotel de Ville. He was M. Mithouard and his own, only son is stone deaf and scarred in the battles of this war. Our boys were called "Teddies" at this time about as frequently as they were called Sammies. On the house in the rue de Reuilly where they were entertained that day this greeting was placed:

When we went back to the Rectory that noon it was to find the house full of flowers and piles of letters and telegrams awaiting us. You permit that I copy for you just one or two, do you not, so that you may know how all that your gifts made possible, was received?

La Panne, Belgique,
le 4 Juillet 1917

Monsieur le Docteur Watson, Madame Watson,

I cannot let pass this day of the anniversary of the Independence of America without sending to you with my cordial remembrance, my admiration and my best wishes for the fine and valiant people of America.

And as a "Belgian" I desire to thank you, you who characterize for us our great Allies, you who have ministered such generous aid with a tireless devotion to us and to all our needy ones.

These sentiments which I express so feebly come from a heart full of gratitude and from the hearts of all Belgians who cry today with all the people of France:

From every quarter of France they came, these letters and telegrams, and from people of every rank. Here is one from a little French hair-dresser:

"Madame:

I had the pleasure, on Friday, to see defile across the Place de la Concorde, the battalion of Infantry which is, for us, the advance guard of the great and splendid army of our old friend America, sent to help France. When I saw the battalion it came from the Invalides and over our great bridge, crossing the Place de la Concorde and going quickly down the rue de Rivoli on its way to the Cimetière de Picpus where it was to lay a wreath on the tomb of Lafayette.

The soldiers marched with heads erect and a resolute carriage. I was just at the edge of the sidewalk and saw everything very well. An enormous crowd lined all the route and acclaimed the men as they passed. The men all saluted the American flag and the women threw flowers to the soldiers. All the people shouted:

'Vivent les Etats-Unis! Vive la France!'

It is very long since a little French army under the orders of the Marquis de Lafayette crossed the ocean and went to help America conquer her independence. Today under the orders of General Pershing, a great American Army comes to aid the French to conquer the barbarians. The American people have not forgotten the service which we rendered and come to help us keep our Liberty. The French people will never forget and the two nations will remain always friends bound together each to the other by ties of gratitude. . .

M. MOAIE.

The American Chamber of Commerce gave a luncheon at the Hotel Palais d'Orsay on Independence Day and my husband said that when the Americans were the speakers they were so moved that it was almost painful to listen to them. He had written an especial note of appreciation to judge Berry for the speech he had made at the luncheon and in reply the judge writes:

July 8, 1917.

"My dear Dr. Watson:

I appreciate very profoundly the very kind words you write me about the Fourth of July "discours". We have all of us, and yourself in the foremost rank, had such an uphill fight during these last three years that it is a great joy to be able to "let loose" and to look a Frenchman straight in the eyes again.

Yours gratefully,"

WALTER BERRY.

One of the honored guests that day was Major Mahan who, that very spring had written a march to celebrate the fiftieth anniversary of his graduation at West Point and who at the time he wrote it was serving as Military Attaché at the Embassy in Paris.

That day, too, M. Raphael Leumier set "Les Psaumes de la Guerre" to music and the music was dedicated to "the greatest glory of the American flag which will save the world".

I myself went to luncheon with Mrs. Valee Black and we were a little company of four, Mrs. Tuck, Mrs. Jaffray and I; and none of us could believe that the waiting was over and that "our men" were in Paris. The Volunteers' Flag had found its rest and won its honor.

Just before it was given to France the Rector took a photograph of it being held by two French officers. Major Robert Linzeler and his brother, Lieutenant Jean Linzeler, both of them representative Frenchmen.

Now "our boys" begin to come in great numbers and one day Madeleine, our cook, said to me:

"Madame, are all the men in America gentlemen?'

"You see them," I answered, "what do you think?"

"I think they look like trees that have grown in the open fields."

Madeleine used to run when the bombs came thick and fast and hide in the abris, the vaulted cellars, near us. I asked her one day if she was afraid to die and reminded her that the other servants stayed in the house and her answer was:

"Madam knows I am not afraid to die if I can have a funeral from the Church and be properly buried in a cemetery, but to be messed up on a sidewalk and no privacy at all---I could not stand that."

By this time we had all come to feel very close to France so that when Lieutenant Champion came to spend forty-eight hours in Paris and buy seeds for the soldiers' gardens just near the Front, we understood how it helped the soldiers to have a garden and a salad. We had spent the money that Mr. Cameron Forbes and his family had given for portable altars for use in the Belgian Army; we had given away the forty cases of Quaker Oats sent to us by the Quaker Oats Company; and we had come to feel with Mr. Whitney Warren that not one single moment of life could ever again be given to anything other than working for justice on the earth.

We had been able to help at Rheims because we knew all about it. Major Linzeler was concerned with the care of its art treasures and the Château of Lumigny is not far from there. Lumigny is the home of the Marquis de Mun, and his family, like all of the French people of rank, charged themselves with such a degree of care for their less fortunate neighbors as it was possible to give.

Now representative Americans began to come. They came as the Army, they came as organized charity affiliated with the Army and the Church sent her representatives. In 1914, the Rev'd Glenn White was in Paris en route for America. He was a tower of strength and a real help while he remained, but the Church's first official representative, as such, to come to France was the Right Reverend Rogers Israel of the Diocese of Erie. He was commissioned as representing the Bishop in Charge of the European Churches and he was also a Red Cross Hospital Chaplain. Of course by this time every shade of religious opinion in America was sending "representatives" to war-stricken France. The Y. M. C. A. and the Knights of Columbus were everywhere and for a time it seemed as though they would put an emphasis on their differences, but the levelling force of Death and agonies of every sort shamed any who would withhold comfort of any sort from those in need of comfort.

Bishop Israel went everywhere if he could get permission he went with it, if he could not he went anyhow and somehow he always won his way. Our soldiers adored him and would throng to hear him whenever he spoke. What he was in the hospital where he served at last is best summed up in the words of a sorely stricken soldier boy from one of the Carolinas:

"Oh! Bishop, I know I could not keep on living without you here and I sure could not die without you."

The next official representative to come was Bishop McCormick of Western Michigan. He came representing and sent by the "War Commission" of the Episcopal Church in America. Bishop McCormick found the situation a difficult one. It was some time before he could secure a hearing from those in the Army who were charged with the "Chaplains". In fact so discouraged did he become that he arranged for his return passage to America. The situation finally resolved itself by the cooperation of the representatives of the various religious bodies working with and under the protection of the Red Cross and Bishop McCormick was thus enabled to continue his service to the American soldiers in France. It is interesting to note that at this time the Army officially put the religious world into two classes, Protestants and Catholics.

Next there came to the Rector, Mr. Anson Phelps Stokes with his most carefully arranged plan for the "education" of our soldiers who must remain in France beyond the time of actual warfare. The wisdom of Mr. Stokes' plan has been fully recognized long ago by thousands of American soldiers who took advantage of all that it made possible.

America's flag was everywhere now and America's men and women were everywhere. They came from every part of our great Republic, and if there were any who failed to be of service the number is so small compared to the number of those who really helped that it can well be forgotten.

There were the inevitable frictions that must come when people make the effort to adjust themselves to conditions of life in a land where the mode of living is all strange to them and when the language of the people is to them an unknown tongue. Some things were like this. A lot of "comfort bags" were sent over from America, lovely bags full of lovely useful things (barring an occasional old, white and silver book labeled 'Women's Thoughts for Women'). At one time a case of these bags was distributed to the soldiers in an Ambulance where there were a number of Algerian soldiers. They have white, shining teeth and the brush they use is a stick which they chew. In the bags they found toothbrushes and dental cream, the pink, wintergreen kind. I don't know what became of the brushes. They ate the cream and apparently liked it.

The chief thing is that those who came did really help and now that they were organized and working those who had stood for America could turn to fresh responsibilities,---in fact the presence of the vast army and of the organized American charities brought to all of us new and almost overwhelming responsibilities; and yet we welcomed them, as we had longed for them, with all our hearts.

All through this story I have written of the things we were privileged to give and you must have wondered where the gifts and the money came from. This is a perfectly true story and you remember that in the first hour of need the Rector sent a cable to Bishop Tuttle. This cable and one other were the only direct, personal appeals which he made. God put it into people's hearts everywhere to help. Our American Church in Paris is a splendid building and not endowed. When the War came its sources of income almost vanished and then friends everywhere began to help. Catholics and Protestants and many of our Hebrew friends sent the Rector gifts to be used entirely at his discretion for whatever need was most pressing and so our Ouvroir was maintained and the actual expenses of the Church itself were kept at the lowest possible ebb. Material gifts came from every part of America and it was a marvellous testimony to the heart of America that without an appeal of any sort such a countless host should have trusted us to use their gifts. Early one morning in the springtime of 1915 there came a Frenchman to our door asking for the Rector. The Rector had gone to a hospital and so the man told me his errand. He said he was a "marchand de graines", a man who goes through the country buying seeds. In one village to which he had gone he found a returned French soldier who had been cared for in our American Hospital in Paris. On the day on which he visited this village the people of the place assembled together and the poor, crippled soldier told them all about the great kindness and the skill with which he had been treated in the American Hospital and of the disfigurement that would have been his but for the skill of our physicians. The people said they must do something to express their gratitude and so they untied the woolen stockings and from the hoarded pennies they gathered together over three hundred francs. How to reach Americans was the next question. Then someone said:

"At the American Church they work always for France and the Rector is France's friend. Send it to him."

So the merchant of grains brought it tied in a big plaid linen handkerchief and it was used in little French hospitals for things not otherwise procurable. Many times were we almoners for the French themselves.

How can I tell you of what your gifts meant, the least as well as the greatest, and every penny and every gift we gave was sent with this message:

"To ------, on behalf of your unknown friends in America. Kindly send your acknowledgment to L'Eglise de la Sainte Trinité, 23 Avenue de l'Alma, Paris."

In 1918 our Ouvroir was closed. The Rector continued to be a Vice-President of the "Fatherless Children of France" in France and he would bear testimony to the superb service that Mr. Morehouse of Milwaukee has been to the cause of the Orphans. Mr. Morehouse sent his son to fight in France and he received him back, sick and crippled for life; but father and son continue to work for the hopeless and helpless in Europe and no honor that can come to them will be as great as is the honor that their Charity has brought to America.

General Joffre, with Viviani, had gone to America and with them went our friend M. Hovelacque. M. Hovelacque speaks English perfectly; he has even written books about us in America and he married an American, Josephine, the daughter of Ex-Governor Higginson of New York. It was M. Hovelacque who arranged the journey and the meetings and because he wished it, the party went as far west as Kansas City. We heard all about it when they came home again and heard that in Kansas City where the visit was on Sunday, the visitors were deeply impressed with the fact that the community somehow managed to receive them with all the enthusiasm the occasion demanded and yet to keep the day as a day set apart from the secular things of a common holiday.

While America was receiving French men, France was receiving Americans and one of these occasions was shortly after America's entry into the War, when a group of about thirty Americans, most of whom had seen long service in France, were invited to the Elysée Palace to meet Mrs. House in whose honor the tea was given. Madame Poincaré was there, as always a most winning hostess, and she made old and new friends both happy to be friends of France. She has planted a lovely rose garden in the Palace grounds; she has given many happy memories to those who knew her best in their hours of need. As for President Poincaré himself, it could be said of him when his term of office expired, he was a disappointment to his enemies and he did not disappoint his friends and France still claims his services.

At the Hôtel Pavillon, Miss Gilman of Baltimore was hostess for hundreds of American soldiers and sailors in Paris on leave. Just about this time our own young nephew, Godfrey Macdonald Brigham had sailed away from a port on the Pacific Coast,---sailed away as a petty officer in our Navy and we knew he was part of that adventurous host who served their country on the sea. Every boy I saw in a sailor's uniform reminded me of my sister's boy and so one Sunday afternoon when we were at the Hôtel Pavillion, I found myself talking to a group of American sailors. They were such frank, courteous boys and they told me that they had been torpedoed more than once, the last time on the U. S. S. Alcedo, Auxiliary Cruiser, torpedoed November 15, 1917 at one forty-five in the morning. Twenty-one men were lost on that boat with not even time to leave their bunks. The survivors were sixteen hours in open boats, but they were the real stuff of which sailors are made for they loved the sea.

As for ourselves, we suddenly realized that our strength was almost spent. The Rector could not lay aside all the service of which he had so long been a part and he could not continue that and still "carry on" for the hosts who were coming; so he became Rector Emeritus of the American Church in Paris and came home to see if he might recover his strength. At his request the Rev'd Mr. Beekman who was the head of Mr. Rodman Wanamaker's work, "The Soldiers and Sailors Club" on the rue Royale, was invited to assume active charge of the American Church, and he still continues to be the Rector.

The long range guns had begun to shake Paris but not even yet was she intimidated. The first time we heard it we could not imagine what the new sound meant, but when the sounds repeated themselves at intervals of about twenty minutes we found ourselves watching the clock and waiting for the boom. Long months afterward when our friends Monsieur and Madame Hovelacque came back to Paris and to their apartment in the rue de Babylone, the sound of the cannon had ceased. When they came Beatrice and Pierre, their children, and the old Breton nurse came with them. Beatrice was very quiet as they entered the courtyard and when they reached the door of the apartment she turned to the nurse and said:

"Nanna, this is not our house; we have none in Paris now."

When the door was opened she stepped forward quickly and then went through all the rooms and corridors looking at everything, saying nothing, occasionally touching with her baby finger a chair or a curtain. The family followed, watching her, but silent. When she reached the nursery she turned to her father, her beautiful brown eyes questioning him and finally she said:

"Papa, where is the bang?"

The baby had no memory of the days before that awful sound and when they had gone away it was because bombs were raining down in the gardens just outside their windows.

When we were ready to leave Paris many of our friends were in the country or in the South. Mr. and Mrs. Tuck were in Monte Carlo working just as they worked everywhere and here in the South they were the moving spirits in all that was done for the care of wounded Americans, officers and soldiers alike. James Gordon Bennett was very ill at Beaulieu and still he would write and work and did until the end came, and he went leaving this world a lonelier place for the friends who cared for him.

We went to Bordeaux and there were obliged to wait two weeks for our boat, L'Espagne, bound for America. With us went Gabriel, for we were too worn out, too ill to go alone. Gabriel was our chauffeur and for him there was no eight-hour day, but at any hour he was ready for service and without him much would have been left undone that was done, for he knew every corner of Paris and all of France and now he had come to see us safely on our journey home to the America that he himself had served with such generous devotion.

Bordeaux was full of American boys, soldiers and sailors. They were splendid; and our young Metropolitan Police were an amazement to the people of that port. The Mayor of the city was most courteous to us and one evening just before we left, we were his guests at dinner. He told us then that "without your young Metropolitan Police we would not know what to do here in Bordeaux; they are splendid and they avert all sorts of difficulties by their tact and judgment."

One day we went with the Mayor to the great library and a man who wore the insignia of the Legion of Honor unlocked a door and took us into an inner room; then he unlocked a safe and from it took the Livre d'Or, the golden book of Bordeaux, and we signed it; when the signatures were dry, the book was locked up.

On the morrow we found ourselves going down the river Gironde out to sea, homeward bound.