s men talked with
hushed voices but with the quiet assurance of men who had seen. It must
be something arresting which changes an atheist into a mystic. Again and
again the French wounded speak of a man in white bending over them as
they lay on the field helpless, and ministering relief. The mysterious
one whom our allies call the "Comrade in White" appears simultaneously
on different parts of the battlefield. His mission ever is one of
mercy.

_The Living Church_ reprints from _Work and Life_ an article giving a
full account of "The White Comrade," furnished by a wounded soldier. All
accounts agree in the main facts. He is generally observed after "severe
fighting," he appears where "death is busiest," he "ignores shot and
shell," he is ever "calm, collected," and brings with him an atmosphere
of peace. Men of the 87th and 128th French Infantry who have been
fighting in the Argonne, have seen him, and on several occasions he has
been seen in the trenches.

The soldier's account which appeared in _The Living Church_ is worth
reading. It is not conclusive evidence, but the number of such
experiences has value on the great subject of Spiritual Intervention.
Religion pledges itself to such a belief. This is the soldier's story,
one of many similar stories:

"It was the next day. At noon we got word to take the trenches in front
of us. They were two hundred yards away, and we weren't well started
till we knew that the big guns had failed in their work of preparation.
We had advanced 150 yards when we found it was no good. Our captain
called to us to take cover, and just then I was shot through both legs.

"I fell into a hole of some sort. I suppose I fainted, for when I opened
my eyes I was all alone. The pain was horrible, but I didn't dare to
move lest the Germans should see me, for they were only fifty yards
away, and I did not expect mercy. I was glad when the twilight came.
There were men in my own company who would run any risk in the darkness
if they thought a comrade was still alive.

"The night fell, and soon I heard a step, not stealthy, as I expected,
but quiet and firm, as if neither darkness nor death could check those
untroubled feet. So little did I guess what was coming that, even when I
saw the gleam of white in the darkness I thought it was a peasant in a
white smock, or perhaps a woman deranged. Suddenly I guessed that it was
'The Comrade in White.'

"At that very moment the German rifles began to