e edge of the river. Several giant trees, the
trunks of which are covered with vines, semi-shelter the entrance, which
is also obscured by climbing ivy. The interior was one of the treasures
of France. The vaulted ceilings were done in wonderful mosaic. The walls
decorated with marbles and rare sea shells. In every nook were marble
pedestals and antique statuary, while the fountain in the centre,
supplied from an underground stream, was of porphyry inlaid with mosaic.

The Germans looked upon it with appreciative eyes and cultured minds.
But it did not please them. They were still very angry. Its destruction
was a necessity of war. It could not be destroyed by artillery because
it was half underground and screened by the giant trees. But it could be
destroyed by picks and axes. A squad of soldiers was detailed to the
job. They did it thoroughly. The gardener took me there to see. Not a
scrap of the mosaic remained. The fountain was smashed to bits. A
headless Venus and a smashed and battered Adonis were lying prone upon
the ground.

The visitors to the chateau and environs afterward joined their comrades
in firing the town. Night had come. Also across the bridge waited the
hundred and fifty thousand reinforcements come from Luneville. The five
hundred of the two thousand inhabitants who remained were herded to the
upper end of the town near the station. That portion was not to be
destroyed because the German General would make his headquarters there.

The inhabitants were to be given a treat. They were to witness the
entrance of the hundred and fifty thousand--the power and might of
Germany was to be exhibited to them. So while the flames leaped high
from the burning city, reddening the sky for miles, while old men
prayed, while women wept, while little children whimpered, the sound of
martial music was heard down the street near the bridge. The infantry
packed in close formation, the red light from the fire shining on their
helmets, were doing the goose step up the main street to the
station--the great German army had entered the city of Gerbeviller with
the honors of war.

General Foch, the Man of Ypres

An Account of France's New Master of War

[From THE NEW YORK TIMES, April, 1915.]

"Find out the weak point of your enemy and deliver your blow there,"
said the Commander of the Twentieth French Army Corps at Nancy at a
staff banquet in 1913.

"But suppose, General," said an artillery officer, "that t