On the Edge of the War Zone From the Battle of the Marne to the Entrance of the Stars and Stripes

h 23

could not realize it when I got your reproachful letter this mo

iscomforts do not inspire me any more than the news from the fro

. Almost never has the ground frozen, and not only is there mud, mud everywhere, but freshets also. Today the Marne lies mo

er out-of- doors than in-and when those days came, I

er so cosy in the house. Usually, when the weather was at its worst, I

wed the news in the vain endeavor to extract something encouraging between the lines,-and failed. Up to date I have not found anything tangible to account f

ut we'll forget it as soon as the women and childre

t this moment. Still, they have been well received, and their presence does liven up the place. This morning, before I was up, I heard the horses trotting by for their morning exer

s everywhere-and I do not need to tell you that, with the spring, my thoughts will take a livelier turn. The country is beginning to look beautiful. I took my drive along the valley of the Grande M

rude crosses of wood, from which the bark had not even been stripped, have been replaced by tall, carefully made crosses painted white, each marked with a name and number. Each single grave and each group of graves has a narrow footpath about it, and is surrounded by a wire barr

e unmarked when I was out there nearly four months

e battle-front, which I got by accident. It is not inspiring. It makes one

e, and in spite of o