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THE NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC MAGAZINE 



the railroad the peaceful hay - stacked 

 fields, vine-covered walls, and russet-tiled 

 roofs showed no trace of that mighty 

 struggle ; but I had covered the country 

 by automobile and had seen modern roofs 

 over shell-torn homes. I had seen the 

 graves among the new-mown hay — white 

 crosses with the tri-color ; black crosses 

 with the letter "A" for Allemands. And 

 near by a sign for the farmer to heed : 

 "In agriculture, respect the graves of the 

 dead." 



Near the town of Meaux there is an 

 imposing marble monument which marks 

 the site where the guard of Paris fell. 

 There are holes in the cemetery wall 

 through which they thrust their rifles, 

 those heroes who rushed out from the 

 capital in more than 1,000 taxicabs on 

 that fateful September day. 



We passed fipernay, the door to 

 Rheims, where a battalion was on the 

 march, and came to Chalons. Here many 

 officers left the train to motor to Ver- 

 dun — spick and span, with blue cloth put- 

 tees to match their uniforms, all carrying 

 canes. The American ambulance driver 

 left with them. 



"I don't know where I'm going," he 

 told us, "but I'm on my way. I'm sure to 

 be on the right road if I'm helping the 

 French." 



A GLIMPSE OF A TENTED HOSPITAL 



Near Bar-le-Duc hundreds of tired sol- 

 diers were resting at farm houses, and 

 there was a solid mile of motor trucks, 

 camouflaged in wavy colors and laden 

 with munitions. At the station ten Mis- 

 souri pack-mules had their heads out of 

 box-car windows. A group of zouaves 

 sat on the platform winding strips of 

 khaki cloth around their red fezzes. 

 They intended to be on the safe side. 



We came to a vast tented ambulance 

 hospital under the spreading branches of 

 trees — trees filled with mistletoe, sugges- 

 tive of Yuletide joy ; and here was pain. 

 We entered a hilly country. Passports 

 were again inspected. We were in French 

 Lorraine. 



A famous Frenchman has called Lor- 

 raine "the most beautiful burial ground 

 in the world." Flanders is a mud-hole 

 and Champagne is all chalk, but Lorraine 



is an enchanting land, with harmonious 

 hills and noble trees and fern-bordered 

 streams rushing to the Rhine. The quaint 

 villages which escaped the German on- 

 slaught perch on the hillsides like Christ- 

 mas toys and the humblest vegetable 

 patch is a garden. 



But there are tombs in every flower- 

 strewn field, for no region on earth has 

 suffered more from fire and sword. All 

 the races of Europe have coveted Lor- 

 raine since the days of the Romans. 

 When the Kaiser waited in the forest with 

 his 10,000 cavalrymen for word from 

 his victorious army that he might cross 

 the frontier and make a triumphant entry 

 into Nancy, he was but following in the 

 footsteps of earlier barbarians who have 

 swept across the Rhine. 



WHERE JOVINUS DEFEATED THE TEUTONIC 

 HORDES SIXTEEN CENTURIES AGO 



Near the highway, not far from the 

 German border, is a memorial shaft 

 which reads : "Here, in the year 362, 

 Jovinus defeated the Teutonic hordes." 

 And here the Huns were driven back by 

 the French in September, 19 14. 



It was late afternoon when we reached 

 Nancy — eight hours from Paris. An offi- 

 cial detained us half an hour in his office, 

 while the passport was again scrutinized. 

 Going outside the station to look for a 

 cab, we saw a mass of ruins across the 

 street — all that was left of a once popular 

 hotel. Many other ruins stared at us on 

 the way to the Place Stanislas. 



The proprietor of the Grand Hotel on 

 the Place said he could give us rooms 

 and we would find a restaurant across 

 the way. He had no "cave," he ex- 

 plained, and there were bombardments. 

 There had been a cellar, but it had been 

 out of commission since the house next 

 door was hit. We asked the maid who 

 showed us the rooms when the last bom- 

 bardment had occurred. 



"Sunday," she said, "or maybe it was 

 Monday. They come so often I lose 

 count." 



"Why do you stay here?" I asked. 



"Because I have four brothers in the 

 trenches, and we all must be soldiers," 

 she replied. 



We sent a letter of introduction to the 



