arm-in-arm with the _poilus_ of his old battalion,
required quick stepping to keep up with him when we were not in his
devil of a motor car that carried me on a flying visit to the French
lines before I started for home and did not fail even when sixty miles
an hour were required to keep the appointment with General Joffre--which
we did, to the minute.

Many people have told of sitting across the table in his private office
from the victor of the Marne; and it was when he was seated and began to
talk that you appreciated the power of the man, with his great head and
its mass of white hair and the calm, largely-molded features, who could
give his orders when the fate of France was at stake and then retire to
rest for the night knowing that his part was done for the day and the
rest was with the army. In common with all men when experience and
responsibility have ripened their talents, though lacking in the gift of
formal speech-making, as Grant was, he could talk well, in clear
sentences, whose mold was set by precise thought, which brought with it
the eloquence that gains its point. It was more than personality, in
this instance, that had appeal. He was the personification of a great
national era.

In view of changes which were to come, another glimpse that I had of him
in the French headquarters town which was not by appointment is
peculiarly memorable. When I was out strolling I saw on the other side
of the street two figures which all France knew and will know for all
time. Whatever vicissitudes of politics, whatever campaigns ensue,
whatever changes come in the world after the war, Joffre's victory at
the Marne and Castelnau's victory in Lorraine, which was its complement
in masterly tactics, make their niches in the national Pantheon secure.

The two old friends, comrades of army life long before fame came to
them one summer month, Commander-in-Chief and Chief of Staff, were
taking their regular afternoon promenade--Joffre in his familiar short,
black coat which made his figure the burlier, his walk affected by the
rheumatism in his legs, though he certainly had no rheumatism in his
head, and Castelnau erect and slight of figure, his slimness heightened
by his long, blue overcoat--chatting as they walked slowly, and behind
them followed a sturdy guard in plain clothes at a distance of a few
paces, carrying two cushions. Joffre stopped and turned with a
"you-don't-say-so" gesture and a toss of his head at somethi