ther man we would have said the general was frightened.
He came down the aisle of the stand with his delightful, easy, smiling
swing; but he looked shrewdly about, with a narrow-eyed, puckered gaze.
He was plainly a little flabbergasted. He seemed taken aback by the
greatness of Philadelphia's voice. He said something to himself. On his
lips it looked like "What the deuce," or something of similar purport.
He sat down on a chair beside Governor Sproul. Not more than four feet
away, amazed at our own audacity, we peered over the floor of the stand.

He was paler than we expected. He looked a bit tired. Speaking as a
father, we were pleased to note the absence of Warren, who was (we hope)
getting a good sleep somewhere. We had a good look at the renowned chin,
which is well worth study. It must be a hard chin to shave. It juts
upward, reaching a line exactly below the brim of his cap. Below his
crescent moustache there is no lower lip visible: it is tucked and
folded in by the rising thrust of the jaw. It is this which gives him
the "grim" aspect which every reader of the papers hears about. He is
grim, there's no doubt about it, with the grimness of a man going
through a tough ordeal. "I can see him all right," squeaked little John
Fisher, "but he doesn't see me." The first two rows of seats at the
right of the aisle were crammed with generals, two-star and three-star.
From our lowly station we could see a grand panorama of mahogany leather
boots and the flaring curves of riding breeches. It was a great day for
Sam Browne. The thought came to us that has reached us before. The
higher you go in the A. E. F. the more the officers are tailored after
the English manner. It is the finest proof of international cousinship.
When England and America wear the same kind of clothes, alliance is knit
solid.

Pershing sat with his palms on his knees. He looked worried. There was a
wavering crease down his lean cheeks. The plumply genial countenance of
Governor Sproul next to him was an odd contrast to that dry, hard face.
The bell in the tower tolled eleven times. He stood up for the
photographers. Walter Crail, appearing from somewhere, sprang up on the
parapet facing the general. "Look this way!" he shouted as the general
turned toward some movie men. That will be Walter's first cry when he
gets to heaven, or wherever. Mayor Smith's face was pallid with
excitement. His nicely draped trouserings, which were only six inches
from our