A fnach!ne-u& ftuiiCf entered the
dugout and gave me a hard look. 1
sneaked past him, sliding and slipping,
and reached my section of the front
line trench, where I . was greeted by
the sergeant, who asked me, "Where
in ave you been?"
I made no answer, but sat on the
muddy fire step, shivering with the
cold and with the rain beating In ray
face. About half an . hour later I
teamed up with another fellow and
went on guard with my head sticking
over the top. At ten o'clock I was
relieved and resume,! my sitting posi
tion on the fire step. The rain sud
denly stopped and rve all breathed a
sigh of relief. We prayed for the morn
ing and the rum issue.
CHAPTER X.
"The Day's Work."
I was fast learning that there is a
regular routine about the work of the
trenches, although It Is badly upset at
times by the Gensans.
The real work m the fire trench
commences at sundown. Tommy is
like a burglar, he works at night.
Just as It begins to get dark the
word "siand to" Is passed from trav
erse to traverse, and the men get busy.
A CROSS, FEVERISH
CHILD IS BILIOUS
OR CONSTIPATED
mi in"
M AMERICAN SOLDIER
WIIOWLYi
ABSUDDGUYEMPEY
LOOK, MOTHER! SEE IF TONGUE
IS COATED, BREATH HOT OR
STOMACH SOUR.
CALIFORNIA SYRUP OF FIGS"
CANT HARM TENDER STOM
ACH, LIVER, BOWELS.
MACHINE: (TOiDMG IN fMNCE
EMPEY LEARNS, AS COMRADE FALLS, THAT DEATH LURKS
ALWAYS IN THE TRENCHES
Synopsis. Fired by the sinking of the Lusitania, with the loss of
American lives, Arthur Guy Empey, an American living in Jersey City,
goes to England and enlists as a privute In the British army. After a
short experience as a recruiting officer in London, he is sent to train
ing quarters in France, where ha first hears the sound of big guns and
makes the acquaintance, of "cooties." After a briof period of training
Empey's company is sent Into the front-line trenches, where he takes
his first turn on the fire step while the bullets whiz overhead. Empey
learns, as comrade falls, that death lurks always in the trenches.
CHAPTER VIII.
The Little Wooden Cross.
After remaining In rest billets for
eight days, we received the unwelcome
tidings that the next morning we would
"go in" to "take over." At six In the
morning our march started and, after
a long march down the dusty road, we
again arrived at reserve billets. ,
I was No. 1 in the' leading set of
fours. The man on my left was named
"Pete Walling," a cheery sort of fel
low. He laughed and joked all the
way on the march, buoying up my
drooping spirits. I could not figure out
anything attractive In again occupying
the front line, but Pete did not seem to
mind, said it was all In a lifetime. My
left heel was blistered from the rub
bing of my heavy marching boot. Pete
. noticed that I was limping and offered
to carry my rifle, but by this time I had
learned the ethics of the march in the
British army and courteously refused
his offer.
We had gotten half-way through the
communication trench, Pete in my im
mediate rear. He had his hand on my
6houlder, as men In a communication
trench have to do to keep in touch with
each other. We had Just climbed over
a bashed-in part of the trench when
in our rear a man tripped over a loose
signal wire, and let out an oath. As
usual, . Pete rushed to his help. To
reach the fallen man he had to cross
this bashed-ln part. A bullet cracked
in the air, and I ducked. Then a moan
from the rear. My heart stood still.
I went back and Pete was lying on the
ground. By the aid of my flashlight
I saw that he had his hand pressed to
his right breast. The fingers were cov
ered with blood. I flashed the light
on his face and in Its glow a grayish
blue color was stealing over his coun
tenance. Pete looked up at me and
said : "Well, Yank, they've done me in.
I can feel myself going West." His
voice was getting fainter and I had to
kneel down to get his words. Then he
gave me a message to write home to
his mother and his sweetheart, and I,
like a great big boob, cried like a baby.
I was losing my first friend of the
trenches.
Word was passed to the rear for a
stretcher, ne died before It arrived.
Two of us put the body on the
stretcher and carried It to the nearest
first-aid post, where the doctor took
an official record of Pete's name, num
ber, rank and regiment from his Iden
tity disk, this to be used In the cas
ualty lists and notification to his
family.
We left Pete there, but it broke our
hearts to do so. The doctor informed
us that we could bury him the next
morning. That afternoon five of the
boys of our section, myself Included,
went to the little ruined village in the
rear and from the deserted gardens of
the French ehateaux gathered grass
and flowers. From these we made a
wreath.
While the boys were making this
wreath, I sat under a shot-scarred
apple tree and carved out the follow
ing verses on a little wooden shield
which we nailed on Pete's cross.
True to his God; true to Britain,
Doing his duty to the last,
Juet one more name to be written
On the Roll of Honor ot heroes passed
Passed to their God, enshrined In glory,
Entering life of eternal rest.
One more chapter in England's story
Of her sons doing their best
Rest, you soldier, mate so true,
Never forgotten by us below;
Know that we are thinking of you,
Er to our rest we are bidden to go.
Next morning the whole section went
over to say good-by to Pete, and laid
him away to rest.
After each one had a look at the face
of the dead, a corporal of the R. A.
M. C. sewed up the remains in a blanket.-
Then placing two heavy ropes
across the stretcher (to be used in low
ering the body into the grave), we lift
ed Pete onto the stretcher, and rev
erently covered him with a large union
Jack, the flag he hn'l died for.
The chaplain led the way, then came
K,he officers of the section, followed by
Vo of the men carrying a wreath. Im
"'etely after came poor Pete on the
'ned stretcher, carried by four
J was one of the four. Be-
etcher, la column of fours.
1917 BY
ARfHUrtJUY fJITY
To get to the cemetery, we had to
pass through the little shell-destroyed
village, where troops were hurrying
to and fro.
An the funeral procession passed
these troops, came to the "attention"
and smartly saluted the dead.
Poor Pete was receiving the only sa
lute a private Is , entitled to "some
where In France."
Now and again a shell from the Ger
man lines would go whistling over the
village to burst in our artillery lines
in the rear.
When we reached the cemetery we
halted In front of an open grave, and
laid the stretcher beside It. Forming
a hollow square around the opening of
the grave, the chaplain read the burial
service.
German machine-gun bullets were
"cracking" In the air above us, but
Pete didn't mind, and neither did we.
When the body was lowered Into the
grave the flag having been removed,
we clicked our heels together and
came to the salute.
I left before the grave was filled in.
I could not bear to see the dirt thrown
on the blanket-covered face of my com
rade. On the western front there are
no coffins, and you are lucky to get a
blanket to protect you from the wet
and the worms.' Several of the sec
tion stayed and decorated the grave
with white stones.
That night, in the light of a lonely
candle in the machine gunner's dugout
of the front-line trench I wrote two
letters. One to Pete's mother, the
other to his sweetheart While doing
this I cursed the Prussian war god
with all my heart, and I think that St
Peter noted same.
The machine gunners in the dugout
were laughing and Joking. To them
Pete was unknown. Pretty soon, in the
warmth of their merriment, my blues
disappeared. One soon forgets on the
western front.
CHAPTER IX.
Suicide Annex.
I was In my first dugout and looked
around curiously. Over the door of
same was a little sign reading "Sui
cide Annex." One of the boys told
me that this particular front trench
was called "Suicide Ditch." Later on
I learned that machine gunners and
bombers are known as the "Suicide
Club."
That dugout was muddy. The men
slept In mud, washed In mud, ate mud,
and dreamed mud. I had never before
realized that so much discomfort and
misery could be contained in those
three little letters, MUD. The floor
of the dugout was an Inch deep In
water. Outside It was raining cats and
dogs, and thin rivulets were trickling
down the steps. From the air shaft
immediately above me came a drip,
drip, drip. Suicide Annex was a hole
eight feet wide, ten feet long and six
feet high. It was about twenty feet
below the fire trench; at least there
were twenty steps leading down to it.
These steps were cut into the earth,
but at that time were muddy and slip
pery. A man had to be very careful
or else he would "shoot the chutes."
The air was foul, and you could cut
the smoke from Tommy's fags with a
knife. It was cold. The walls and
roof were supported with heavy square
cut timbers, while the entrance was
strengthened with sandbags. Nails had
been driven Into these timbers. On
each nail hung a miscellaneous assort
ment of equipment. The lighting ar
rangements were superb one candle
In a reflector made from an ammuni
tion tin. My teeth were chattering
from the cold, and the drip from the
airshaft did not help matters much.
While I was sitting bemoaning my
fate and wishing for the fireside at
home, the fellow next to me, who was
writing a letter, looked up and Inno
cently asked, "Say, Yank, how do you
spell 'conflagration'?"
I looked at him in contempt and an
swered that I did not know.
From the darkness in one of the cor
ners came a- thin, piping voice singing
one of the popular trench ditties en
titled: "Pack up your Troubles ki your Old Kl
Bag, and Smile, Smile, Smile."
Every uow and then the singe
would stop to cough, cough, cough, bvjt
It was a good Illustration of Tommys
(,p(r'n'nocQ Ttn!pr njoh condition)?.
The first relief, consisting of two men
to a traverse, mount the fire step, one
man looking over the top, while the
other sits at his feet, ready to carry
messages or to Inform the pi toon offi
cer of any report made by tie sentry
as to his observations in No Man's
Land. The sentiy Is not allowed to
relax his watch for a second. If he Is
questioned from the trench or asked
his orders, he replies without turning
around or taking his eyes from the ex
panse of dirt in front of him. The re
mainder of the occupants of his trav
erse either sit on the fire step, with
bayonets fixed, ready for any emer
gency, or if lucky, and a dugout hap
pens to be in the near vicinity of the
twrerse, and if the night is quiet, they
are permitted to go to same and try
and snatch a few winks of sleep. Little
sleeping is done ; generally the men sit
around, smoking fags and seeing who
can tell the biggest lie. Some of them,
perhaps with their feet in water, would
write home sympathizing wlt the
1 's Gun in Action.
"governor" because he was laid ui
with a cold, contracted by getting his-,
feet wet on his way to work in Wool
wich arsenal. If a man should manage
to doze off, likely as not he would wake
with a start as the clammy, cold feet
of. a rat passed over his face, or the
next relief stepped on his stomach
while stumbling on their way to relieve
the sentries In the trench.
Just try to sleep with a belt full of
ammunition around you, your rifle bolt
biting into your ribs, intrenching tool
handle sticking into the small of youi
back, with a tin hat for a pillow and
feeling, very damp and cold, with
"cooties" boring for oil In your arm
pits, the air foul from the stench of
grimy human bodies and smoke from a
Juicy pipe being whiffed into your nos
trils, then you will nut wonder why
Tommy occasionally takes a turn ir.
the trench for a rest.
While in a front-line trench orders
forbid Tommy from removing his
boots, puttees, clothing or equipment.
The "cooties" take advantage of this
order and mobilize their forces, and
Tommy swears vengeance on them and
mutters to himself, "Just wait until I
hit rest billets and am able to get my
own back."
Just before daylight the men "turn
to" and tumble out of the dugouts, foan
the fire step until it gets light, oi- the
welcome order "stand down" is given.
Sometimes before "stand down'- s or
dered, the command "five rounds rap
Id" is passed along the treTjcn. This
means that each man mu rest hia
rifle on the ioptfbA fire ai, rapidly as
possible five snots a'med toward the
German Frenches, anrt the uck (with
the emphasis on the ' duck'). There la
a great rivalry between tht opposing
forces to get their zapid flie all off
first, because the early bird, in this in
stancy catches the worm sort of gets
the Juimp on the other fellow, catching
himunawares.
Empey goes "over the top" for
the first time and has a hand-to-hand
fight with a giant Prus
sian. In the next installment he
tells the story of this thrilling
charge. .
(1
X:
Unobtrusive New
Voiu'ii are net running atter
.trange gods in neckwear this spring.
There are some new departures In the
styles but they are unobtrusive and
no one kind of neckpiece Is dominant,
overshadowing others, as the Jabot did
last spring. Favor is divided among
severnl good styles and much atten
tlrtfi given to the development of them
to the last degree of daintiness. This
spring the guimpe, the vestee with
collar attached, the stock collar and
tie and the long collar with cuffs to
match are receiving the greatest
amount of consideration.
In so many of the new spring suits
coats are open in the front to the
waistline; that a waistcoat or vestee
comes In as a matter of course as the
most logical of accessories. But one
must put up a brave front these days,
whether the suit coat allows an ex
panse of waistcoat to show or not.
Therefore, collar and cuff sets have
been forged to the front with new vi
Smart and Quiet
Daytime frocks that prove most in
teresting this season, whether they are
made of,. silk or of wool materials, are
those that provide a way of dressing
for almost any occasion. Naturally
foulard has come back to us, and has
forged to the front, in an endless va
riety of patterns and made up in an
endless vartety of ways, proving itself
a reliable resource in the wardrone.
Women have need of Just this kind of
frock now that war time makes them
wish for a limited supply of dresses.
Striped satins, in separate skirts, or
combined with georgette crepe or chif
fon cloth In frocks, plays the same sort
of role as that undertaken by foulard
in the apparel of today. It is the new
understudy whose performance is
proving equally as good as that of the
star.
Just one more of those fine combina
tions of satin and crepe that have been
plentiful this spring Is pictured here.
The tunic and the bolero strengthen Its
consciousness of being strictly in the
mode while fulfilling its many duties.
Its wearer will know herself to be
smartly and quietly gowned which
knowledge is very comfortable a con
summation to be devoutly wished In
daytime frocks.
For once stripes do not run diag
onally; in this frock they proceed in
matter-of-fact directness about the fig
ure, li a tunic that proves itself an
Tception to the rule of uneven lengths
3 ' 1
. -v.- ' , J
L . 1 1 til
Styles in Neckwear
tality. They are of white wash satin,
of white organdie or crepe georgette,
or of a combination of white and a
color. They are simply and daintily
finished; little frills, scalloped ed;e
and embroidered dots holding first
pince in the choice of decorations for
them. A set of this kind is shown la
the picture, with a Jabot and h'gt
collar of net In which embroidered
dots also serve as a means of adorn
ment. An added daintiness comes of
using very sheer swlss-organdie and
making the collar and cuffs double as
shown In the picture.
Soft white collar fabrics like gaber
dine, cross-barred with fine lines in
black or blue, are used for high stcb
collars with four-in-hand ties attach id.
Vestees with high collars finished with
rows of little pearl buttons are made
of the same materials. These will all
delight the woman who likes trim,
mannish touches to add to her tailoi
made suit.
Daytime Fros ks
in tunics. This tunic is finished with
a .band of crepe whose straightfor
wardness is emphasized by a row of
beads on Its edge. There is a short
bodice of the striped satin and over it
a long-sleeved bolero of the crepe. The
sleeves have nurrow cuffs of the satin.
A narrow shawl collar of the crepe Is
extended into the ends, which prove
the designer has originality and Im
agination. The edging of small bead?
that outline the bolero at the arm's
eye and at its lower edge finish the
tie ends and the cuffs, so that we are
in no danger of overworking the clever
details of this design. Such gowns a?
this force home the conviction that
materials are less important than the
way In which they are put together,
hi the making of successful clothes.
Sweater of Satin Ribon.
The new sweater Is made of narrow
satin ribbon, instead of worsted. The
first one brought to this country fnim
France contained 1,000 yards of baby
ribbon, yet the cost was less than the
average silk sweater. These sweater
are promoted by the French to con
serve wool. The Idea Is very clever
and will undoubtedly appeal to hun
dreds of women who can do the work
at home.
Every mother realizes, after giving
oer children "California Syrup of -Figs,"
that this Is their Ideal laxative,
because they love Its pleasant taste
and It thoroughly cleanses the tender
little stomach, liver and bowels with
out griping.
When cross, Irritable, feverish, or
breath is bad, stomach sour, look at
the tongue, Mother! If coated, give 4
1 M 4.1. f 1 J 1J.
a icasjiuuuiui uj. una nmiiiiess iruii
laxative," and in a few hours all the
foul, constipated waste, sour bile and
undigested food passes out of the bow
els, and you have a well, playful child -again.
When the little system is full of
cold, throat sore, has stomach-ache, di- ,
arrhoea, Indigestion, colic remember
a good "Inside cleansing" should al
ways be the first treatment given.
Millions of mothers keep "California
Syrup of Figs" handy; they know a
teaspoonful today saves a sick child
to-morrow. Ask your druggist for a
bottle of "California Syrup of Figs,"
which has directions for babies, chil
dren of all ages and grown-ups' printed
on the bottle. Beware of counterfeits
sold here, so don't be fooled. Get the
genuine, made by "California Fig
Syrup Company." Adv.
MADE IMMORTAL BY GOETHE
LelDzia Tavern in Which Poet Located V
- . r
scene in "r-aust," was wen- '
known Gathering Place.
Auerbach's cellar was a tavern at
Leipzig which disappeared in 1912. It
owed its chief fame to Goethe, who in
this place located the srene m "Faust"
wherein Mephistopheles, standing up
on a wine cask, takes his flight into
t-pace with Doctor Faust, to the stupe
faction of the guests drinking at the
tables. Tlni old building to which the
cellar belonged was built by Doctor
Stromer d'Auerbach at about 1520, the
worthy doctor there storing the wine
intended for his own use. Later, as
the wine was good, he conceived the
Idea of selling it. In this way was es
tablished the tavern to which his
name has been attached ever since.
From the earliest years of the seven
teenth century legend has placed in
this cellar the famous adventure of
Faust and Mephistopheles. Goethe,
studying at Leipzig university from
17G5 to 17GS, frequented that cellar al
most nightly and there talked with
his friends of art, literature and pol
itics, and thus he heard of that le
gend which he turned to such excellent
account, at the same time so very
greatly enriching the literature of his
rnnntrv.
Neatly Put.
There had been a long silence In-the
dim-lit room. The atmosphere was
tense.
"Edith," said the young man at last,
breaking the silence, "I have, a ques
tion to ask you an Important one."
, "Y-y-yes, Tom?" faltered the young
lady.
"I I I well, anyhow, my name's
going tp be printed in the paper soon,,
and I I I wondered whether it
would be among the deaths or or
among the marriages, along with
yours?"
Not to Be Outdone.
The Lark I sing above the guns.
The Hen Well, I cackle over a s
shell. New York Sun.
Honest labor Is the best remedy for
bad luck.
says-
To i get the best of all
Corn Foods, order
I HASHES
SweetCrisftReadyTo-Eat
j I