he suffers now she is
suffering for all mankind; and now, more than ever before in her
history, are those words become true which one poet who loved her gave
to her in the Litany of Nations crying to the earth:

I am she that was thy sign and standard bearer,
Thy voice and cry;
She that washed thee with her blood and left thee fairer,
The same am I.
Are not these the hands that raised thee fallen, and fed thee,
These hands defiled?
Am not I thy tongue that spake, thine eye that led thee,
Not I thy child?

*The Soldier of 1914*

*By Rene Doumic.*

_In spite of the great European war, which struck France with the
full force of its horrors, the Institute of France, which includes
the world-famous French Academy, held its regular session on Oct.
26 last. The feature of this session, widely heralded beforehand,
was the address of the celebrated critic, M. Rene Doumic of the
Academy, on "The Soldier of 1914." "Every sentence, every word of
it, was punctuated with acclamations from the audience," says Le
Figaro in its report. Below is a translation of M. Doumic's
address:_

The soldier of 1914. We think only of him. We live only for him, just as
we live only through him. I have not chosen this subject; it has forced
itself upon me. My only regret is that I come here in academician's
costume, with its useless sword, to speak to you about those whose
uniforms are torn by bullets, whose rifles are black with powder.

And I am ashamed, above all, of placing so feeble a voice at the service
of so great a cause. But what do words matter, when the most brilliant
of them would pale before acts of which each day makes us the witnesses?
For these acts we have only words, but let us hope that these, coming
from the heart, may bring to those who are fighting for their country
somewhere near the frontier the spirit of our gratitude and the fervor
of our admiration.

Our history is nothing but the history of French valor, so ingenious in
adopting new forms and adapting itself each time to the changing
conditions of warfare. Soldiers of the King or of the republic, old
"grognards" of Napoleon, who always growled yet followed just the same,
youngsters who bit their cartridges with childish lips, veterans of
fights in Africa, cuirassieurs of Reichshofen, gardes-mobiles of the
Loire, all, at the moment of duty and sacrifice, did every