The Pensacola journal. (Pensacola, Fla.) 1898-1985, 1918-02-26

the sllts or buildings, so we went
downstairs.
Only few people, and those most
~ from the top floor, were in the
big, dim lobby, and no one seemed
particularly perturbed.
We asked if we were permitted
TO go outside. Ow, yes, we might.
The authorities would rather we
would not, on account of the possible
danger of flying debris; but there
was nothing, really, to prevent US.
So we went
Wonderfully mysterious, those
London streets at night; weirdly
dark, with the shaded street ls>cs,
IN tangled, diminishing perspective,
casting downward their cones of fu-
mlnous mist, and vague, shadowy
figures fitting silently into and out
OF the lighted circles; gaunt, dim
cabs, with their drivers swathed into
shapeless Jumps, formless, plodding
carts and wagons, silent and motion
less Boobies" huddled early risers
shuffling almost invisibly to and fro
on thousand missions Of khet own.
and, now, silent little groups here
ad these faces upturned.
Nothing to see.
The afships were so high up as
to be invisible; they were not even
specks in the clear sky. Presently,
too, the booming of the big guns be-
came more intermittent, and finally
ceased. The air raid was over. Over,
and no great damage done!
The siren sounded again in the
streets of Paris, only a few seconds
after that first warning, and the
curtain slid slowly down on our Lon
don memory, as the lights were
dimmed in our decorous French res
taurant.
The walters came away from the
door, smiling and Struggling their
shoulders, and the head waiter low
cred his hand.
He considered it his duty to laugh
extravagantly for the reinsurance of
his guests, and did so, though it was
entirely unnecessary.
The French officer who was en-
pertaining his family exchanged a
smile with them, and resumed pour
ing the wine.
The young English officer lit a
fresh match, and the pretty girl took
up her silvery laugh where she had
left it off, with a curious effect of
beginning again with the ;naudible
echo.
The American contractor observed
probably a false alarm" and set
down his river and put a bridge
across it.
The French banker, his eye twink
ling with amusement at the excess
i've hilarity of the head waiter, tasted
his dessert and found it good, and
we put lemon ION our flat, round
oysters.
There seemed nothing else in par
ticular to do.
Nowhere in particular to go. for
one place was as safe as another;
and if anything were to happen it
would, and if not, not.
No single diner left until he had
finished, no one went to window or
a door.
Of course it had been a false
One of the alert French gendarmes
of the air, far towards the border,
had heard a strange engine was
overhead, and too far inside the line
so he gave the alarm. for the chase,
and a mistake in signals had treat
ed the city to long obsolete thrill
in spite of the tact that the raiders
are scare ely likely ever again to
reach Paris.
The bugle sounded call clear" in
short time after the warning, and the
vigilant airmen. who never cease to
circle above their precious Paris,
flashed their comforting lights as
thew wired and dipped and tobog-
gained in the linpid moonlit air.
But the thrill had no depth.
The world. with such tremendous
things at stake, has long since ceased
fo care about such trifleS.
The incident only served to ><;ng
up the everlasting. puzzle OF: Why
does the Poche do it.
His tremendously expensive raids
have no military or stratevic value,
and it can only be that his clumsy
mind conceives the absurd theory
that such people as the British and
the French, who have proved their
staunchness by a heroism which will
be epic m future history, could be
frightened by goblin scarecroU
in a field!
W. l--e not been among the Brit
ish So much, but we were with them
in the one visitation. and know that
there is nothing but bravery in
them: and as for the French. whom
we know much better, cit is to
laugh"
Fear, as a basis Of action, seems to
have gone out Of the universe.
A. least it is not to be found in
France. for fear is individual, and
the Frenchman, dear as life NAV be
to him, no longer lives for himself.
He is but a part of great, daunt-
less ration which is proceeding
sternly toward the accomplishment
of one clear and fixed idea; for that
idea, France is willing to endure
again all the deprivation and the
agony which she has endured in the
past. to fight .bravelv and to bravely
suffer, to pour out her treasure and
her blood in an unending stream with
out complaint and without one fall
tering in her sublime courage, until
the foul and hideous monster of