The Birmingham age-herald., 1915-12-12
BuRIES HIS MONEY

We lunched Tn charmlnS house where the table was spread in the front hall. The bed of the officer tenn porarily occupying the house also was spread in the hall and we were curious to know, but too proud to ask why he limited himself to such narrow quarters. Our captain rewarded our reticence. He threw back the heavy curtain that concealed the rest of the house and showed us that the rest of the house had been deftly removed by a she'll The owner of the house had run away, but before he went, fearing the Germans might enter Arras and take his money, he had withdrawn it and hidden it in the garden. The money amounted to $2500. He placed it in lead box, soldered up the opening and buried the box under a tree. Then he went away and carelessly forgot which tree. During a Hull in the bonn bardment he returned and until in the morn ing dug frantically for his buried treasure. The soldier who guarded the house told me the difference in the way the soldiers dig a trench and the way our absent host dug for his lost money was greatly marked. found the leaden box cast aside in the dog kennel. It was the exact size of suitcase As none of us knows when he may not have to bury quartet million dollars hurriedly, it is fact worth remembering. Any ordinary suit case will do The soldier and l ex- amined the leaden box carefully. But the owner had not overlooked any thing.
 RUINS OF CATHEDRAL
 When we reached the ruins of the cathedral we did not need darkness and falling rain to further depress us or to make the scene more desolate. One lacking in all reverance would have been shocked. The wanton waste, the senseless brutality in such destruction
 would have moved a statue. Walls as thick the ramparts of a fort had
 been blow into powdered chalk, there were great breaches in them through which you could drive an omnibus, in one place the stone roofing and sup
 porting arches had fallen, and upon
 the floor where for 200 years the peo- pie of Arras had knelt in prayer was mighty barricade of stone blocks. twisted candelabra, broken praying chairs torn vestments, shattered glass. Exposed to the clements. the chapels were open to the sky. The ram Tell on sacred emblems of the holy fam fly, the saints and apostles Upon the ! altars the dust of the crushed walls lay inches deep.
 The destruction is too great for pres-
 ent repair. They can fill the excava- tions in the streets and board up the shattered show windows. But the ca. thedral is too vast, the destruction or it too nearly complete. The sacrilego must stand Until the war is over, until Arras is free from shells, the ruins must remain uncared for and uncov- I cred And the cathedral by those who | once came to it for help and guidance | will be deserted. But not entirely de- l serted. The pigeons that built their nests under the caves and in the belrry have now descended to the empty chap els and in swift graceful circles sweep under the ruined arches Above the dripping of the rain and the surly
 booming of the cannon. their confended cooing was the only sound of comfort.
 It seemed to hold out promise Tor | the better days of peace.
 | Copyright, 1915. by Richard Harding Davis. )