“That’s a good deal for the head of the Austrians to say, isn’t it?  We always expected victory; but even the most optimistic of us were surprised at what our peasant soldiers did.

“In the flight, the Austrians could not take care of their wounded, she says, and sent them back to Belgrade, many of them, as prisoners.  Many must have died during the flight, too, for they got a jolting that wounded men can’t stand.

“Our brother, who was a professor of chemistry, is a Sergeant now in charge of two German Krupp guns, which were captured from Turkey in the other war.  He is at Banovo Brdo, a residence section outside Belgrade, on a hill.  All the villas have been destroyed by the Austrian artillery fire.

“And,” continued Miss Losanich, “she says that the toys sent by the Americans were received in Nish and distributed to the poor children for Christmas, and that the feeling of cordiality toward the Americans is growing fast.”

THE DRAGON’S TEETH

BY CAROLINE DUER

    Oh, sunny, quiet, fruitful fields of France,
      Golden and green a month ago,
    Through you the great red tides of war’s advance
      Sweep raging to and fro. 
        For patient toil of years,
        Blood, fire and tears
      Reward you now!

    The dragon’s teeth are sown, and in a night
      There springs to life the armed host! 
    And men leap forth bewildered to the fight,
      Legion for legion lost! 
        “Toll for my tale of sons,”
        Roar out the guns,
      “Cost what it cost!”

    This is a “holy war”!  A holy war? 
      With thousand millions maimed and dead! 
    To show one Power dares more than others dare—­
      That higher rears one Head! 
        How will you count your gain,
        Lord of the slain,
      When all is said?

    The dragon’s teeth are sown, and in a night
      There springs to life the armed host! 
    And men leap forth bewildered to the fight,
      Legion for legion lost! 
        “Toll for my tale of sons,”
        Roar out the guns,
      “Cost what it cost!”

    Oh, tragedy of Nations!  Who may see
      The outcome, or foretell the end? 
    Hark men and weeping women, misery
      That none may mend. 
        Ruin in peaceful marts,
        Dazed commerce, stricken arts. 
        God, to the ravaged hearts
      Some mercy send!

    The dragon’s teeth are sown, and in a night
      There springs to life the armed host! 
    And men leap forth bewildered to the fight,
      Legion for legion lost! 
        “Toll for my tale of sons,”
        Roar out the guns,
      “Cost what it cost!”

Copyright, 1914, by The New York Times Company.

The Greatest of Campaigns