ombardment
of Soissons:_

I had just read in a newspaper that the Germans, who have been
bombarding Soissons these four months, have dropped eighty shells on
the cathedral. A moment later chance brought before me a book of M.
Andre Hallays, where I find these lines, which I take pleasure in
transcribing:

"Soissons is a white city, peaceful and smiling, that raises its tower
and pointed spires at the edge of a lazy river, at the centre of a
circle of green hills. The city and the landscape make one think of
the little pictures that the illuminators of our old manuscripts
lovingly painted.... Precious monuments show the whole history of the
French Monarchy, from the Merovingian crypts of the Abbaye de
Saint-Medard to the fine mansion erected on the eve of the Revolution
for the Governors of the province. Amid narrow streets and little
gardens a magnificent cathedral extends the two arms of its great
transept; at the north is a straight wall, and an immense
stained-glass window; at the south, that marvelous apse where the
ogive and the full centre combine in so delicate a fashion." ("Around
Paris," Page 207.)

That charming page from a writer who dearly loves the cities and
monuments of France brought tears to my eyes. It charmed my sadness. I
want to thank my colleague for it publicly.

The brutal and stupid destruction of monuments consecrated by art and
the years is a crime that war does not excuse. May it be an eternal
opprobrium for the Germans!

No. 2.

MARTYRDOM THAT ENNOBLES.

_To illustrate this memorial, which is first addressed to the Friends
of the Beautiful, and whose object is to touch the heart, we give a
sonnet of M. Edmond Rostand. It is entitled, "The Cathedral," and will
show that pride may be taken by the victim of violence, and that a
crime against the beautiful diminishes only the brute who commits it:_

Nought have they done but render it more immortal! The work does not
perish that a scoundrel has struck. Ask Phidias, then, or ask of Rodin
if before bits of his work men no longer say, "It is his!" The
fortress dies when once dismantled, but the temple shattered lives but
the more nobly; and our eyes, of a sudden, remember the roof with
disdain and prefer to see the sky in the lace work of the stone. Let
us give thanks, since till now we lacked what the Greeks possess on
the hill of gold--the symbol of beauty consecrated by insult! Let us
give thanks to the layers of the stupid cannon,