The resources are provided wholly by the charity of Americans. From the beginning of the war the administrative council of their Paris hospital took the initiative in the movement. The American colony in France, almost unaided, gave the half-million francs that was subscribed the first month. New York and other cities of the United States followed their lead, and, in spite of the financial crisis that grips there as elsewhere, one may be sure that the funds will not be wanting. America has its Red Cross, which, justly enough, aids the wounded of all nations; but, among the belligerents, it has chosen to distinguish the compatriots of Lafayette and Rochambeau; our field hospital is the witness of their faithful gratitude. France will not forget.
Later the abbe recorded in his diary that the 500 beds would soon be filled, but added that the generous activity of the Americans would not end there. They would establish branch hospitals. Large sums had been placed at the disposal of the committee to found an “ambulance” in Belgium and another in France as near the front as prudence permitted. Toward the end of January he recorded the gift of $200,000 from Mrs. Harry Payne Whitney, and its use by the committee to establish an affiliated hospital at the College of Juilly, in the Department of Seine-et-Marne. He added that still other branches were about to be founded with American funds.
Abbe Klein writes out of a full and sincere heart, whether as a priest, a patriot, or a man who loves his fellowmen; and, without seeking it, he writes as a master of phrase. His new book probably will soon be translated and published in the United States.
A TROOPER’S SOLILOQUY
By O.C.A. CHILD
’Tis very peaceful by
our place the now!
Aye, Mary’s home from school—the little toad—
And Jeck is likely bringing in the cow,
Away from pasture, down the hillside road.
Now Nancy, I’ll be bound,
is brewing tea!
She’s humming at her work the way she will,
And, happen so, she maybe thinks of me
And wishes she’d another cup to fill.
’Tis very queer to sit
here on this nag
And swing this bit o’ blade within my hand—
To keep my eye upon that German flag
And wonder will they run or will they stand;
To watch their Uhlans forming
And feel a queersome way that’s like to fear;
To hope to God that I won’t make a show,
And that my throat is not too dry to cheer;
To close my eyes a breath
and say “God bless
And keep all safe at home, and aid us win,”
Then straighten as the bugle sounds “Right, Dress....”
Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah! We’re going in!
By Maximilian Harden