Tell all that you know, all that you saw or heard, and don't leave out anything." This evening I shall have an abundant harvest of information and of information taken from life.

'Sunday, July 31. In order to bring the school-year, filled with such tragic incidents, to a fitting close, it had been decided to hold a private reunion somewhere, in some well-sheltered place. But where? We did not know yet, but in some carefully selected spot, to which all the teachers would be summoned, with delegations of the children, and their parents if they wished to attend. Dr. Langlet, the mayor, and M. Forsant,1 inspector of schools, decided that it should be held at the Dubail School. Up on the higher ground of the third district, if the shells come while we are there, we shall be able to await in a safe place the end of the shower.

'At half after nine on July 31, the 332d day of the bombardment, every child donned his or her holiday attire; sheafs of flags in the Allies' colors stood against the pillars and in the corners of the store-room; in the centre were the benches reserved for the delegations from the other schools; and at the entrance an unpretentious platform was arranged for some fifteen distinguished guests. The poilus of the nearest cantonment had turned to, with such hearty good-will, to assist me in making my preparation. Fathers all of them, those good territorials.

"The official motors arrive and the inspector receives the guests at the entrance to the school. As they start down the wooden staircase leading to the school-room, I give the signal for the first song, and 250 children's voices manfully strike up the Marseillaise. The whole roomful is on its feet with uncovered heads; it is a most impressive moment, when one reflects that we 1 The author of this paper.

Nous entrerons dans la carrière,

brings tears to many eyes. Enthusiastic applause, then, silence. The mayor is on his feet. In words of extreme gravity, throbbing with repressed emotion, Dr. Langlet congratulates the little children on their courage and their application, congratulates also their teachers, men and women, and pays tribute to the memory of those teachers of Rheims, whose names he recalls, who have given their lives for France. In conclusion he expresses his confidence in the destiny of the nation, and the hope that we shall soon see the sacred soil of our country freed from the pollution of the foreign foe.

'He is vehemently applauded, and the distribution begins. In addition to books, each pupil receives a diploma in recognition of his courageous assiduity.

'Saturday, December 4. This morning, about a quarter to nine, I had nearly reached the school, when a shell whistled by and fell on the boulevard not far away. I called in all the pupils who were there, and we went down into the school-room. The teachers arrive, then more children in rapid succession, all out of breath; it seems that the shell landed in the centre of the square. The lessons continue nevertheless, although sometimes disturbed by the hissing of shells passing over. About ten o'clock the reports come nearer; I order the writing lesson stopped and collect the children on the staircase. At two o'clock, before dismissing them, I go up to the store-room. What a tumult! Courageous parents come running in to fetch their children, and I learn from them that bombs are falling on the

boulevards and the streets near by. That is just where most of our pupils live. What is to be done? I turn over to the parents the children they have come for, but those who are left behind are unhappy: they cry, and want to go home. At last we persuade them to be patient and comfort them as best we

can.

'How slowly the hands move! Halfpast eleven twelve! We are still waiting for the end of this horrible bombardment; we can't think of leaving. Half-past twelve-quarter to one. How long shall we be obliged to stay like this? There are a hundred or more children here, of all ages and there is no way to keep them quiet. The larger ones, very excited, say insistently, "Madame, I want to go home, I'm too hungry. We've seen many worse ones than this, madame," The little children, too, are overexcited and nervous; I must put an end to it; in any case the bombardment is growing less and less violent. I have the children arranged in groups, according to the streets where they live, and place each teacher in charge of those who live in her neighborhood; I myself take the children from the Barbâtre and the neighboring streets. I tell them all that there will be no afternoon session, and give the following instructions: not on any condition to go along the boulevard; to go as fast as possible through the streets, and if they hear the hissing of a shell to lie flat on the ground. The groups are to start five minutes apart. Our children are calmer now; they understand me, and, in general, they realize the gravity of the situation.

'I set out with my group. I cannot deny that I am a bit anxious. The children press close to my side, hang on my arms, and stoop over from time to time when the shells whistle in the distance. Luckily, I get rid of them one

by one all along the road, and on rue Montlaurent I deliver the last ones at their homes. What a relief!

'Friday, January 7, 1916.- Present, 255 pupils. To-day the session has been far out of the ordinary course. When they enter the school-room the children's curiosity is keenly aroused by two large chests. About half-past ten I have the chests opened and take out a number of little blue, green, and yellow bags which are placed on my desk in packages. All eyes question me. The children have seen similar bags hanging from the soldiers' belts, but surely these can't be for them! I distribute them among the children, who open them and find in each a pad and a pair of glasses. "Why, yes! that's just what the soldiers have!" They exchange conjectures and are unanimous in saying that the pad has a very bad smell. "But how can we use the things?"-"Attention! all watch closely. See: I put the pad over my nose and mouth; I pass the strings behind my head, bring them round in front, and tie them tight. Then I put the glasses on over it."

'After this there is little of the aspect of a school. The pupils laugh frantically and climb on the tables to see me better. I must look very comical for even the teachers have hard work to keep sober. I remove my mask. "It's your turn now, my dears; come on." And they go through the performance several times to be able to execute it well and quickly.

'Monday, March 27. The session begins as usual, at half-past eight; I am giving a lesson in oral arithmetic, when all of a sudden my assistants, who have remained above, come rushing down to the stairway, crying, "The bombardment is close by!"-"Bring your children down instantly," is my reply. ] am not greatly excited because of the frequency of the bombardments, which

very seldom reached the school. But suddenly a terrific noise deafens us: two shells have fallen on a house at the corner of the square, close by. The little ones begin to tremble and cry. Aided by my teachers, I quickly form them in groups- encouraging them the while in order to take them down into the cellar. We have hardly begun to go down when we hear above our heads a tremendous crash, mingled with the noise of shattered glass. Another shell has fallen on the building, penetrating the first two concrete layers and smashing all the windows. The children who are a little way behind are terrified and begin to shriek; some soldiers who have taken refuge with us take them in their arms and quickly carry them down. The older ones, whom I am leading, remain perfectly calm; they go down quietly. Below we gather them all about us and comfort the most timid. When they see that they are safe, they soon grow quiet. But a few small girls keep on sobbing. I go up to them. "You must n't cry any more: you're out of danger now.' But holding me, one by the apron, another by the hand, they say, "Mamma will be killed, madame! there is n't any cellar in our house." - "Papa was working in the square, madame! Suppose he did n't have time to run away?"-"Don't be afraid, children," I reply, kissing them; "your papa and your mamma won't be kilied; they will be able to reach some safe place. Your mamma will come to fetch you in a moment; it will soon be all over." My assistants meanwhile are comforting others.

'Our stay in the cellar lasted two

hours. It seemed to us extraordinarily long. So far as most of the children were concerned, it was a surprise; and it ended by amusing them; they would have liked to go upstairs to see what was going on. Some of them talked with the soldiers, who gave them bread which they calmly set about eating. At last, about twenty minutes past two, hearing nothing more, I went to make sure that the danger was at an end. Some parents hurried in to get their children, and thanked us for taking them where they were safe. The pupils quickly came up two by two, each of the older ones leading a little one. I formed them in line, and each of us took charge of a group. Then I dismissed them for the afternoon.

'Despite the intense emotion we had undergone, we were very happy to have been able to take care of our dear charges. As for our unfortunate quarter, it was in even more deplorable case than ever: not a house uninjured! and I heard it said that there had been several victims.'

The result of the investigations that I made shows that during the thirty months that the schools were open, thirty-seven shells fell upon the school buildings and two of them went through the roof, luckily while the children were absent, into the rooms where the sessions were held every day. More than a thousand projectiles of all calibres fell within a space of less than 100 metres from the schools, in which space they killed seventy-six grown persons and eight children who never attended school. Not a single teacher or pupil was wounded.

I

SOMEWHERE to the north of Paris, in the zone des armées, there is a village, known to all aviators in the French service as G.D.E. It is the dépôt through which pilots who have completed their training at the aviation schools pass on their way to the front; and it is here that I again take up this journal of aerial adventure.

We are in lodgings, Drew and I, at the Hôtel de la Bonne Rencontre, which belies its name in the most villainous fashion. An inn at Rochester, in the days of Henry the Fourth, must have been a fair match for it; and yet there is something to commend it other than its convenience to the flying field. Since the early days of the Escadrille Lafayette, many Americans have lodged here while awaiting their orders for active service. As I write, J. B. is asleep in a bed which has done service for a long line of them. It is for this reason that he chose it, in preference to one in a much better state of repair which he might have had. And he has made plans for its purchase after the war. Madame Rodel is to keep careful record of all its American occupants, just as she has done in the past. She is pledged not to repair it beyond the bare necessity which its uses as a bed may require an injunction which it an injunction which it was hardly necessary to lay upon her, judging by the other furniture in our apartment. Drew is not sentimental, but he sometimes carries sentiment to extremities which appear to me absurd.

When I attempt to define, even to myself, the charm of our adventures thus far, I find it impossible. How, then, make it real to others? To tell of aerial adventure, which is so gloriously new, one needs a new language-or, at least, a parcel of new adjectives, sparkling with bright and vivid meaning, as crisp and fresh as just-minted banknotes. They should have no taint of flatness or insipidity. They should show not the faintest trace of wear. With them, one might hope now and then to startle the imagination, and to set it running in channels which are strange and delightful to it. For there is something new under the sun — aerial adventure; and the most lively and unjaded fancy may at first need direction toward the realization of this astounding fact. Soon it will have a literature of its own-of prose and poetry, of fiction, biography, memoirs; of history which will read like romance. The essayists will turn to it with joy. The poets will discover new aspects of beauty which have been hidden from them through the ages; and as men's experience in the wide fields of air' increases, epic material which will tax their most splendid powers.

This brings me sadly back to my own purpose, which is, despite many wistful longings of a more ambitious nature, to write a plain tale of the adventures of two members-prospective up to this point of the Escadrille Lafayette. To go back to some of those earlier ones, when we were making our first cross-country flights,

I remember them now with a delight which at the time was not unmixed with other emotions. Indeed, an aviator, and a fledgling aviator in particular, often runs the whole gamut of human feeling during a single flight. I did, in the course of half an hour, reaching the high C of acute panic as I came tumbling out of the first cloud of my aerial experience. Fortunately, in the air the sense of equilibrium usually compels one to do the right thing; and so, after some desperate handling of my 'broom-stick,' as the control is called, which governs ailerons and elevating planes, I soon had the horizons nicely adjusted again.

What a relief it was! I shut down my motor and commenced a more gradual descent; for I was lost, of course, and it seemed to be wiser to land and make inquiries, than to go cruising over half of France looking for one picturesque old town among hundreds of such. There were at least a dozen within view. Some of them were a threehours' walk distant from each other. But in the air! I was free to go whither I would and swiftly.

After leisurely deliberation I selected one surrounded by wide fields which appeared to be as level as a floor. But, as I descended, the landscape widened, billowing into hills and folding into valleys. By sheer good luck, nothing more, I made a landing without accident. My Caudron barely missed colliding with a hedge of fruit trees, rolled down a long incline, and stopped not ten feet short of a small stream. The experience taught me the folly of choosing landing ground from high altitudes. I need not have landed, of course; but I was then so much an amateur that the buffeting of various currents of air near the ground awed me into it, come what might. The village was out of sight over the crest of the hill. However, thinking that some one

VOL. 121 - NO. 2

must have seen me, I decided to await developments where I was.

Very soon I heard a shrill, jubilant shout. A boy of eight or ten years was running along the ridge as fast as he could go. Outlined against the sky, he reminded me of silhouettes I had seen in Paris shops, of children dancing, the very embodiment of joy in movement. He turned and waved to some one behind, whom I could not see, then came on again, stopping a short distance away, and looking at me with an air of awe, which, having been a small boy myself, I was able to understand and appreciate. I said, 'Bonjour, mon petit,' as cordially as I could; but he just stood there and gazed without saying a word.

Then the others began to appear: scores of children, and old men as well, and women of all ages, some with babies in their arms, and young girls. The whole village came, I am sure. I was mightily impressed by a haleness in the old men and women, which one rarely sees in America. Some of them were evidently well over seventy, and yet, with one or two exceptions, they had healthy complexions, clear eyes, and sound limbs. As for the young girls, many of them were exceptionally pretty; and the children were sturdy youngsters, not the wan, thin-legged little creatures one sees in Paris. In fact, all of these people appeared to belong to a different race from that of the Parisians to come from finer, more

vigorous stock.

They were very curious, but equally courteous, and stood in a large circle around my machine, waiting for me to make my wishes known. For several minutes, I pretended to be busy attending to dials and valves inside the car. While trying to screw my courage up to the point of making a verbless explanation of my difficulty, some one pushed through the crowd, and, to my