sident will write about it, we
hardly appreciate that this actually is a war of the world, that all
over the globe, every ship of state, even though it may be trying to
steer a straight course, is being violently rocked by it. Even the
individual, as he moves from country to country, is rocked by it, not
violently, but continuously. It is in loss of time and money he feels it
most. And as he travels, he learns, as he cannot learn from a map, how
far-reaching are the ramifications of this war, in how many different
ways it affects every one. He soon comes to accept whatever happens as
directly due to the war--even when the deck steward tells him he cannot
play shuffle-board because, owing to the war, there is no chalk.

In times of peace to get to this city from Paris did not require more
than six days, but now, owing to the war, in making the distance we
wasted fifteen. That is not counting the time in Paris required by the
police to issue the passport, without which no one can leave France. At
the prefecture of police I found a line of people--French, Italians,
Americans, English--in columns of four and winding through gloomy halls,
down dark stairways, and out into the street. I took one look at the
line and fled to Mr. Thackara, our consul-general, and, thanks to him,
was not more than an hour in obtaining my laisser-passer. The police
assured me I might consider myself fortunate, as the time they usually
spent in preparing a passport was two days. It was still necessary to
obtain a vise from the Italian consulate permitting me to enter Italy,
from the Greek consulate to enter Greece, and, as my American passport
said nothing of Serbia, from Mr. Thackara two more vises, one to get out
of France, and another to invade Serbia. Thanks to the war, in obtaining
all these autographs two more days were wasted. In peace times one had
only to go to Cook's and buy a ticket. In those days there was no more
delay than in reserving a seat for the theatre.

War followed us south. The windows of the wagon-lit were plastered with
warnings to be careful, to talk to no strangers; that the enemy was
listening. War had invaded even Aix-les-Bains, most lovely of summer
pleasure-grounds. As we passed, it was wrapped in snow; the Cat's Tooth,
that towers between Aixe and Chambery, and that lifts into the sky a
great cross two hundred feet in height, was all white, the pine-trees
around the lake were white, the streets were white, the Casin