The silver state. [volume] (Winnemucca, Nev.) 1909-1925, 1918-06-04

qualnted with them for a long time
and | could almost picture how they
had looked when they landed over
here. So / read the names of them
all and placed my little piece of buis
upon the grave of n Arthur r. Peter
son of the - Ambulance company.
Tribute to Americans.
Mile. Therese decorated each of the
others in the same silent way that 1
had done. For a few moments no one
seemed TO have anything to say, and Il
deep silence prevailed until mademoi-
selle had decorated the last, saying as
she did so:
LES pauvres garcons, lis SOM emu
81 lOins pour mourir." (The poor boys +;
they have come so far to die).
'Nfais lis ont finis de souffrier seux
la, cest a leur pauvre meres que je
pense, moi" said Nine. ReyeillOn.
(Their suffering is over; it is of their
poor mothers hat l am th%inking).
When / could trust myself to speak
l tried to smile my appreciation of
their generosity, and said:
But there are hundreds of your
Poilus here"
"Ah, oui," said monsieur, "but we
ave very fortunate in having them
here near us, while these parents back
in America have not had the oppor-
tunity to even bid them goodby."
Their sorrow, their respect and their
sympathy were profound and sincere.
1t is beyond my capacity to describe it
further. Here were mothers mourning
the loss of other mothers whom they
had never seen, did not know, nor
would they ever know. 1t was not so
much for the sons that lay buried
there but those that were left behind
to mourn. All these women had
mourned the loss of some kin since
1914 and their sympathy was genuine.
All Pause in Silence.
There were other persons in the
cemetery who had come to honor their
dead In the same way and as | looked
they all stopped and read "A nos
icamarades les A~mericains," paused
and in silence gazed at the crosses and
passed on.
This was Palm Sunday, but l had
forgotten thsat and l found myself be-
lieving it Memorial day back home.
We left the field and continued on to
the garden on the outskirts of the
town. Here some two hours later as
we sat in front of the maisOnnette
at one end of the garden, mademoiselle,
struggling through a sentence in Eng
fish, was suddenly interrupted by a
ivolley of rifle fire.
"Ecoutez !" (~listen) she said. "Qu'est
que c'est?" (what is thatO Another
volley and then another. No one
stirred. A bugle note struck the air,
'Le clarion" said mademoiselle, and
again complete silence.
From far away it came, but in the
intense silence it was easily distin-
,guishable, and when the last note had
died away mademoiselle turned to me
and said: "Qu'est que c'estY"
After a second l found my voice and
was just about to explain when
'"Eeoutezp'
Another volley, followed by two
more. Again the clarion. And again
mademoiselle said "Qu'est que c'est?'
Final Sad Rites.
Well / knew what it was, and before
i could tell her in my mind | could
plainly see the open grave exposing
for the moment its contents; the fir
ing squad with rifles pointed over the
opening; the corporal giving the words
of command. The final note of taps"
added the last touch of sadness to the
picture and / told mademoiselle as
best | could the meaning of it all. She
has been working in a hospital since
the beginning of the war, so she un-
derstood very readily.
Monsieur was at the other end of
the garden and had only stopped his
work just long enough to look up at
the firing, and, not understanding,
went back to his work. Now he came
up, declaring he was tired and did not
feel like doing any more work that
afternoon. Nine. Toilet insisted we
visit her garden before we go home.
so we put up the chairs and left.