The Benson signal., 1917-04-07

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expected. France stands firm and un-
dismayed, ready to spring when the
hour comes. And Russia-Russia has
shown what she can do. Wait till the
mountain SHOWS have gone! Germany
has scattered her men, sacrificed them
on every battlefield, the pawns Of the
game. 1t Is not forever she can do
this. In the end it is the pawns who
count"
The woman's eyes were filed with
tears.
"Brave Talk, My Son."
''It is brave talk" she cried; "brave
talk, my son. I shall speak to them
in the village Of you."
"Not of me, madame" he begged.
'Look at me. I speak for what !
represent. am the common soldier
Of France. am the man who bids
good morning to Death, day by day,
and will continue to do so until the
end comes rather than leave our be-
loved land to face the dread Of mu-
tilation again."
There was no sound of guns here.
The train clanked across the streets
of an old country town and drew up
at the platform. Madame laid down
her basket and embraced the Poilu.
"Son of my country" she exclaimed,
"the good God guard you"
She kissed his cheeks and departed.
The Poilu handed down her basket
and waved his hand. He was once
more gay.
zone is tempted, perhaps, to talk
overmuch, monsieur" he ventured,
turning to me.
"One can never say too much In the
language you speak," I assured him.
He accepted more Of my cigarettes
and our journey was resumed.
Presently he leaned out of the win
dow and looked forward, shading his
eyes with his hand.
''What Did M. lie President Mean?"
"Soon," he announced, 81 reach my
home. For a week I shall rest. Mon
sieur is English?" he asked, turning
suddenly toward me, mot Americana
II am English" I told him once
more.
America" he said thoughtfully, "is
a great country. America has been
the good friend of yourselves and Of
France. I would not say a word
which might seem lacking in courtesy,
and yet-there Is this note which
started this peace babble, the note
which, they say, Monsieur lie President
wrote"
"It has been answered." 1 reminded
him.
ut has been answered with great
words" the POilu aSsented, "and Of
that no more. But always this puzzles
me-what did Monsieur lie President
mean when, in black and white, he set
it down as an accepted thing that Ger
many that our enemies, were fighting
for the same cause as we, the cause
Of the smaller nations? Have they
heard of Belgium over there, mon
sieur? Have they heard of the many
thousands of slaves being dragged
weekly from that country? Have they
heard of Serbia and Montenegro? :?
They were small countries, monsieur.
Germany is very great, indeed, in her
her way of caring, not ours. What did
he mean, do you think, monsieur?"
I shook my head.
"The ways Of diplomacy are not al
ways so easy as they may seem," I re-
piled. Besides, there is much which
remains behind all that is said in
print"
"That Is Why We Fight"
The mans attention had wandered.
He was gazing ecstatically out Of the
window. He beckoned me to his side.
About little wood-crested slope q
space had been cut. A white farm
house stood there, and near by a few
cottages, and a church with a quaint
tower.
"My home" he pointed out with a
little catch in his throat. "You see
the hills yonder, monsieur? 1t was
there that the Boches swung round. A
few more miles and I might have been
homeless, wifeless-and the chill.
dren-"
He stopped and picked up his haver-
sack. His eyes were curiously bright.
"You see," he concluded, that is
why we fight, that is why the word
peace today stinks in our nostrils.
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