equently in his pages. He says the labors of
the American nurses and those of the French nurses complement each other
admirably. Of the founding and maintenance of the hospital at Neuilly,
he says:

The resources are provided wholly by the charity of Americans.
From the beginning of the war the administrative council of
their Paris hospital took the initiative in the movement. The
American colony in France, almost unaided, gave the
half-million francs that was subscribed the first month. New
York and other cities of the United States followed their
lead, and, in spite of the financial crisis that grips there
as elsewhere, one may be sure that the funds will not be
wanting. America has its Red Cross, which, justly enough, aids
the wounded of all nations; but, among the belligerents, it
has chosen to distinguish the compatriots of Lafayette and
Rochambeau; our field hospital is the witness of their
faithful gratitude. France will not forget.

Later the abbe recorded in his diary that the 500 beds would soon be
filled, but added that the generous activity of the Americans would not
end there. They would establish branch hospitals. Large sums had been
placed at the disposal of the committee to found an "ambulance" in
Belgium and another in France as near the front as prudence permitted.
Toward the end of January he recorded the gift of $200,000 from Mrs.
Harry Payne Whitney, and its use by the committee to establish an
affiliated hospital at the College of Juilly, in the Department of
Seine-et-Marne. He added that still other branches were about to be
founded with American funds.

Abbe Klein writes out of a full and sincere heart, whether as a priest,
a patriot, or a man who loves his fellowmen; and, without seeking it, he
writes as a master of phrase. His new book probably will soon be
translated and published in the United States.

A TROOPER'S SOLILOQUY

By O.C.A. CHILD

'Tis very peaceful by our place the now!
Aye, Mary's home from school--the little toad--
And Jeck is likely bringing in the cow,
Away from pasture, down the hillside road.

Now Nancy, I'll be bound, is brewing tea!
She's humming at her work the way she will,
And, happen so, she maybe thinks of me
And wishes she'd another cup to fill.

'Tis very queer to sit here on this nag
And swing this bit o' blade within my hand--