" The Croix Rouge does
splendid work for the wounded soldiers, but who will help these victims
of war? Fifty cents will buy shoes for a baby's feet. Ten cents will buy
ten pieces of bread. A dollar will buy a widow a shawl. Who will give?
Deny yourselves some little pleasure--a cigar, a drink of soda water, a
theatre seat--and send the price to these starved, beaten people,
innocent of any crime.

You American women, who tuck your children into their clean beds at
night, remember these children, reared as carefully as yours, without
relatives, money, or future. They will be placed on farms to do a
peasant's work with peasants. These women bereft of all that was dear
face a barren future. These aged men anticipate for their only remaining
blessing death, which will take them from a world which has used them
ill.

America is neutral. Let her remain so, but compassion has no
nationality. We are all children of one Father. Send us help. These poor
creatures hold out to you pleading hands for succor.

NINA LARREY DURYEE.

P.S.--I beg you to publish this. I am the daughter-in-law of the Gen.
Duryee of the Duryee Zouaves, who fought through our civil war with
honor. Our Ambassador, Mr. Herrick, and his wife know me socially. Any
funds you can gather please send to M. Grolard, Marie de Dinard,
Municipality de Dinard, Ille-et-Vilaine, France, or to Le Banque Boutin,
Dinard, France.

*A New Russia Meets Germany*

*By Perceval Gibbon.*

[From THE NEW YORK TIMES, Oct. 26, 1914.]

VILNA, Russia, Sept. 28.--For a fact as great as Russia one needs a
symbol by which to apprehend it For me, till now, the symbol has been a
memory of Moscow in the Winter of 1905, the Winter of revolution, when
the barricades were up in the streets and the dragoons worked among the
crowds like slaughtermen in a shambles. Toward that arched gateway
leading from the Red Square into the Kremlin came soldiers on foot,
bringing with them prisoners dredged out of the turmoil, two armed men
to each battered and terrified captive, whose white and bloodstained
face stared startling and ghastly between the gray uniform greatcoats.
The first of them came to the deep arch, in whose recess is a lamplit
shrine; I stood aside to see them go past. The soldiers were wrenching
the man along by the arms, each holding him on one side; I recall yet
the prisoner's lean, miserable face, with the suggestion it had of
dissolute and desperate youth; and as they c