ed and made for home as fast as his baulking engine would
allow.

These are but two stories among dozens I have heard, yet these, I
think, will suffice to show something of the spirit animating these
young paladins. The Spirit of Youth is surely a godlike spirit,
unconquerable, care-free, undying. It is a spirit to whom fear and
defeat are things to smile and wonder at, to whom risks and dangers
are joyous episodes, and Death himself, whose face their youthful
eyes have so often looked into, a friend familiar by close
acquaintanceship.

Upon a time I mentioned some such thought to an American aviator, who
nodded youthful head and answered in this manner:

"The best fellows generally go first, and such a lot are gone now
that there'll be a whole bunch of them waiting to say 'Hello, old
sport!' so--what's it matter, anyway?"

XIII

YPRES

Much has been written concerning Ypres, but more, much more, remains
to be written. Some day, in years to come, when the roar of guns has
been long forgotten, and Time, that great and beneficent consoler,
has dried the eyes that are now wet with the bitter tears of
bereavement and comforted the agony of stricken hearts, at such a
time some one will set down the story of Ypres in imperishable words;
for round about this ancient town lie many of the best and bravest of
Britain's heroic army. Thick, thick, they lie together, Englishman,
Scot and Irishman, Australian, New Zealander, Canadian and Indian,
linked close in the comradeship of death as they were in life; but
the glory of their invincible courage, their noble self-sacrifice
and endurance against overwhelming odds shall never fade. Surely,
surely while English is spoken the story of "Wipers" will live on for
ever and, through the coming years, will be an inspiration to those
for whom these thousands went, cheering and undismayed, to meet and
conquer Death.

Ypres, as all the world knows, forms a sharp salient in the British
line, and is, therefore, open to attack on three sides; and on these
three sides it has been furiously attacked over and over again, so
very often that the mere repetition would grow wearisome. And these
attacks were day-long, week- and sometimes month-long battles, but
Britain's army stood firm.

In these bad, dark days, outnumbered and out-gunned, they never
wavered. Raked by flanking fire they met and broke the charges of
dense-packed foemen on their front; rank upon rank and elbow to elbow