Imperial Valley press., 1914-10-23

sheaf with the best of them, and
stoutly WELD an unblooded fork?
"a steep descent brings me into
the entrancing little town of Chablis-
on-the Serin. Sweet name of sweet
river-broad, shallow, poplar-fringed!
Old-timbered houses jostling each
other by the cool water; a quaint
place with arcades of time-wrenched
wooden pillars; stunted turrets and
steep jumbled russet roofs; tall,
red-tiled church--that is Chablis on
its material side. On its human
fussy friendliness. ] show my papers
three times, and each examination con-
vinces me that have done wisely
to be born English. Bon! Bravo
Bienp 'Tis chorus of appreciation.
| really must try not to be puffed up.
"The road row mounts abruptly,
sometimes built up across little val
ley where the vines of Chablis are
ripening beneath the August sun,
sometimes cut through rocks, bare
and dazzling now, now forest-shaded,
looking down here on a snug farm,
there on a grey village, clustered
about a white tower. l am caught
up by a cyclist who recognizes my
meritorious nationality by my accent,
of which, generally ashamed, I am
growing rather proud today. Soon
he leaves me behind, for he is in the
scorching line, and I am one who
pedals a la papa. But when l run
down into Auxerre, which lies a fairy
ENHANCEMENT of towers and walls, on
southwark facing slope, I arrive at
the gate few minutes before my
scorcher. Thus we see-but the
moral is obvious and as old as Oesop.
Auxerre is swarming with military
and am held up by picket of regu-
lars, whose bayonets drop before the
sesame of my eminently satisfactory
papers. A train charged with field
artillery is drawn. up in the station,
waiting it's turn to move on; its en-
gine and luggage van are decorated
with foliage and flags. There are sold
iers everywhere, rambling the streets,
crowding the cafes, sleeping propped
up against shady walls, leaning over
the bridge. l lean there for a mo-
ment myself, enthralled by the glori-
Gus view.
"There is a little note of confusion
and irritation-the first l have struck
today in the general confidence and
calm-at the police commissariat,
where l go for visa But one can
make excuses. And, after all, the
only fault that heated official finds
is that my photograph is pinned to
my pass and not 4gummed. Que
voulesz-vous, Monsieur L'Inspecteur
A la guerre CONNIE a la guerre! Let
not Il penn'orth of gum stand between
u.s. After that, of course, he cannot
stick to it.
"My two hours permission to So
journ' is up, and it is en- route for
home! The amiable sentry, an ac-
quaintance of the morning, asks me
if I know one Roy, musician.
should be sorry to disappoint friend,
so l know one Roy, musician, and am
charged with a bon-jour for him.
The road, blazing white now, unrolls
before me in hot curves and stretches,
till az Chablis puncture puts a mo-
mentary stop to its unwinding. I go
to bicycle shop for repairs, to the
mayor for visa and to safe coolly
ensconced under the pillars of the
place for long drink. Again-the
wine may have something to do with
it find Chablis delightful, and the
old mechanic is delightful who menos
my tire. The master and the son of
the house are both at the front, and
he is in sole charge. He is efficient,
but slow. He has way of crossing
his feet and burying his hand in his
and then, from his attitude
you expect speech, he, saving your
expectorates. All this