ch artillerymen
seemed to be elated in spite of their wounds. Had not their beloved
Soixante-quinze again scored? The time was 6 o'clock of a beautiful
evening and the firing, though fairly continuous, was dropping off. The
Germans had changed their positions and it was getting a little too hazy
to make observation, although a French aeroplane was seen descending in
wide circles over the German position, evidently quite regardless of the
numerous small balls of smoke, which made their appearance in the sky in
dangerous proximity to the daring pilot.

It is very interesting to watch these aeroplane shells bursting in the
air. First of all one sees a vivid little streak of bluish white light
in the sky, and then instantaneously a smoke ball, which appears to be
about the size of a football, is seen in the sky, always fairly close to
the machine. Then there is the sound of an explosion like a giant
cracker.

Occasionally several guns will fire at about the same time, and it is
weird to watch the various balls of smoke, apparently coming into being
from nowhere, all around the machine. Sometimes one of these shells,
which are filled with a species of shrapnel, bursts rather unpleasantly
near the aeroplane, and then one sees the machine turn quickly and rise
a little higher.

Two or three holes have been neatly drilled through the planes. Perhaps
one has appeared in the body of the machine, rather too near the pilot
for safety; but it is a big gamble, anyhow, and besides the pilot has
been instructed to find out where the various positions are, and he
means to do it.

So he simply rises a little higher and calmly continues his big circles
over the German position.

I take off my hat to these brave men, the aeroplane pilots. They are
willing to chance their luck. What matters it if their machine gets hit,
if the planes are riddled with holes? It will still fly, even if the
engine gets a fatal wound and stops.

The pilot, if he is high enough, can still glide to safety in his own
lines. But (and it is a big "but") should a shrapnel ball find its
billet in the pilot--well, one has only to die once, and it is a quick
and sure death to fall with one's machine.

[Illustration]

*The Battles in Belgium*

[An Associated Press Dispatch.]

LONDON, Oct. 26, 4:40 A.M.--The correspondent of The Daily News, who has
been in an armored train to the banks of the Yser, gives a good
description of the battle in the North.