e-building the souls of the human derelicts who have survived the
savagery. This war is going to be won not by the combination of
nations which has most men and guns, but by the side which possesses
the highest spiritual qualities. The same is true of the countries
which will wipe out the effects of war most quickly when the war is
ended. The first countries to recover will be those which fight on
in a new way, after peace has been signed, for the same ideals for
which they have shed their blood. The sight of these American women,
living helpfully and voluntarily for the sake of others among hideous
surroundings, is a perpetual reminder to the dispirited refugees that,
whatever else is lost, valiance and loyalty still survive.

From Grecourt I went farther afield to Croix, Y and Matigny. Here
a young architect is in charge of the reconstruction. No attempt
is being made at present to re-build the farms entirely. Labour is
difficult to obtain--it is all required for military purposes. The
same applies to materials. Patching is the best that can be done. Just
to get a roof over one corner of a ruin is as much as can be hoped
for. Until that is done the people have to live in cellars, in
shell-holes, in verminous dug-outs like beasts of prey or savages.
Their position is far more deplorable than that of Indians, for they
once knew the comforts of civilisation. For instance, I visited a
farmer who before the war was a millionaire in French money. Many of
the farmers of this district were; their acreages were large even by
prairie standards. The American Red Cross has managed to reconstruct
one room for him in a pile of debris which was once a spacious house.
There he lives with his old wife, who, during the Hun occupation,
became nearly blind and almost completely paralytic. His sons and
daughters have been swept beyond his knowledge by the departing
armies. Before the Huns left, he had to stand by and watch them
uselessly lay waste his home and possessions. His trees are cut down.
His barns are laid flat. His cattle are behind the German lines. At
the age of seventy, he is starting all afresh and working harder than
ever he did in his life. The young architect of the Red Cross visits
him often. They sit in the little room of nights, erecting barns and
houses more splendid than those that have vanished, but all in the
green quiet of the untested future. They shall be standing by the time
the captive sons come back. It is a