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Dec. 24, 1917. PROF. FOSTER'S FRENCH LESSON READING THE PAPER. Je desire un journal d’aujourd’hui Zhuh , ayseer urng zhoornal dozhoord- WC"> I wish a today’s paper. Cherchez-moi un journal, s’il vous plait Shairshay mwa urng zhoornal, seel voo play Get me a daily paper, please. Avez-vous des journaux anglais? Avay voo day zhoorno zahnglay Have you any English papers? Avez-vous lu le. journal d-hier? Avay voo lee luh zhoornal deeair? Have you read yesterday’s paper? Avez-vous vu le communique d’aujourd hui? Avay voo vee luh komeeneekay doz hoordwee Have you seen today’s Bulletin? Quel journal lisez-vous d’ordinaire? Kel zhoornal leesay voo dordeenair? What daily do you read usually? Je Hs “Le Petit Parisien" tousles jours Zhuh lee “Luh P’tee Pahreezeeang” too lay zhoor I read “Le Petit Parisien” every day. Je vourdrais savair les nouvelles d’aujourd’hui Zhuh voodray savwar lay noovel Cozhoordwee I should like to know today’s news. Les nouvelles ne sont pas bonnes Lay noovel nuh sawng pah bun The news is not good. Qui a gagne la bataille, les Francaise ou les Allemands? Kee ah gahnyay lah bataheeyuh, lay Frahngsay oo lay zalmahng? Who won the battle, the French or the Germans? L’armee anglaise I’emporte sur I'enne mi, n’est-ce pas? Larmay ahnglayz lahngport seer lan ni, nays pah? The English army is getting the bet ter of the enemy, isn’t it? Les Allemands sont-ils victrrieux en core une fois? Lay zalmahng sawng teel viktoreeur zahngkor een fwa? Are the Germans victorious (once) again? J’ai achete des journaux francaise Zhay ashtay day zhoorno frahngsay I have bought some French papers. Cavez-'vous les lire faaiiement? Savay voo, lay leer faseelmahng? Can you (do you know how to) read, them easily? Je sals lire le franca is mais ;'a ne peux le eomprendre khuh say leer luh frahngsay may zhuh nuh pu. luh kawngprahngdr I can read French, but I cannot under stand it. THE SOLDIER (This describes an actual incident.) He wired for us to meet him; En route he was to France; With millions more, he’s going To make the Kaiser dance. We met in old St. Louis, Down near the Terminal Tower, Our handsome red-cheeked Soldier Boy Who’s on his way to war. With her eyes like stars and a smile on her lips. Mother bade him farewell. Although she knew he was leaving her, Going into the Jaws of Hell. Her Baby Boy was leaving her And her heart with grief was sad, But her eyes shone blue and her smile Was true to cheer her Soldier Lad. —Written by Her Dad. St. Louis, Mo., Dec. 11, 1917. THINKING I am sitting in the twilight. By the window of my room, And thicker comes the darkness Os the evening’s deepening gloom; I am thinking of a pastime That so well I used to know. While a sadness now creeps o’er me, Like a weight of heavy woe. Thinking while sadness creeps o’er me, Still my lone heart would be gay; Thinking of the shadows In the fading of the dav; Thinking of many a boding In the days of long ago. Thinking of hopes I’ve been dreaming, Which my heart so longs to know. I am weary of this waiting, * Yet I will never give o’er. For the lining of the future Gleams as brightly as of yore; There is sunshine in the shadows; I will wait the golden dawn. It is always much the darker Just, before the morn. —5. b«- F-nr.cis ' • r-’ ’’B” lO’h F. A. TRENCH AND CAMP General Stillwell Recalls Christmas of 1898 Quite naturally at this time my thoughts go back to the Christmas of 1898, when I was here with the Thir teenth Pennsylvania Volunteer Infantry, and the merry time we then had. The war was over and we were waiting for possible garrison duty in Cuba, and then muster out and return to our homes. Un der these circumstances we had plenty of time to make merry and practically every company street was decorated with holiy and pine. Some of the arches and gates at the heads of the company streets were works of art, and always some appropri ate sentiment worked out in colored sand greeted the visitor. Also the mess halls were beautifully decorated, and some had old Santa Claus in soldier clothes looking down the chimney. And I remember, The Service Flag Dear little flag in the window there. Hung with a tear and a woman’s prayer; Child of Old Glory, born with a star — Oh, what a wonderful flag you are! Blue in your star in its field of white, Dipped in the red that was born of fight; To raise your mother, The Flag, o’er head. And now you’ve come, in this frenzied day, To speak from a window —to speak and say: “I am the voice of a soldier son Gone to be gone till the victory's won. “I am the flag of The Service, sir; The flag of his mother —I speak for her Who stands by my window and waits and fears, But hides from the others her unwept tears. “I am the flag of the wives who wait For the-safe return of a martial mate, A mate gone forth where the war god thrives To save from sacrifice other men’s wives. “I am the flag of the sweethearts true; The often unthought of—the sisters, too. I am the flag of a mother’s son And won’t come down tiil the victory's won!” Dear little flag in the window there, Hung with a tear and a woman’s prayer; Child of Old Glory, born with a star — Oh, what a wonderful flag you are! —William Herschell, in the Indian apolis News. W H E nTrET U RNTOYO U. ’Neath Georgia skies of blue, No matter what I do. There is always time for thinking and my thoughts drift back to you. When the moon is riding high In that same blue southern sky, ’Twas such a night as this when we said our last good-bye. Then onee more in the rays Os the sunshine of your ways I live again in memory those last sweet pleasant days. And though many miles away, You are nearer to me today Than when I held you close on that ne’er forgotten day. And o’er those many miles I can see your sunny smiles; And I long to hear your sweet voice and to be near you all the while. And while drilling in the heat, I pray that those wings are fleet; That time will fly past swiftly, when once again we’ll meet. But now all that I can do, Is promise to be true, And hope you’ll be the same as ever, when I return to you. —Private Walter A. Anderson, Co. E, 112th IT. S. Infantry. to the"bots who areTeaving. Stnd by, stand by the Colors, boys. Ye sons of sires, strong and brave; Life high the starry banner now, What they gave us you must save; This starry emblem of the free, By the hand of freedom’s foe Has been lowered on the sea. fasten, hasten to the Colors, boys, Our country’s call you must obey; For human rights the conflict wages In democracy’s glorious day; In bleeding France Old Glory stands With other banners of the free To dowm oppression in all lands. Follow, follow the flag, boys; Across the sea she leads the way ’Till autocracy crushed shall be, And liberty shall have full sway; Long the struggle will not last If each Sammy does his best The Teuton power down to cast. Stand up, stand up for the flag, hoys; A grander thing you could not do; And, if a Teuton lavs you low. We. at home, sha’l envy you; In such a cause to die is gain: For high ideals such as these, Our Lc-rd died and suffered pain. (REV.) ,T. E. DUFFIELD. Yatesboro, Pa. how generous our boys were in shipping mistletoe to the girls back home, when they knew they could not be present at the right time to receive the reward. In those days we thought we had a fine regiment but in no way could it be com pared to those here now, except to its dis advantage. Here we have the best the Keystone States can produce, practically all of them volunteers. What splendid fellows they are, and how earnestly and enthusiasticaly they train in spite of the fact that so many are disappointed over not being permitted to serve in the or ganizations they originally joined and helped to build! I take off my hat to you, men of the Keystone division, and may you have the merriest Christmas of your lives. F. W. STILLWELL, Commanding General 55th Inf. Brigade. Merry Christmas By FRANKLIN. (Apologies to K. C. B.) A friend of MINE • • • Said to me “DO • • » ♦ You BELIEVE • * • In Santa CLAUS?” * * • And I ANSWERED * * * “Yes,” and he SAID » » » Are you going TO Hang up YOUR • * ♦ Stocking?” and I • • • Told him THAT • ♦ * Last year I • • • Hung up MY * * ♦ Stocking and THE • • • Board of HEALTH • • • Made me TAKE » « * It down; so THIS • » • Year I’m GOING • • • To try A SHOE. The Glorious South? i - ! When we were stationed in the north, I often heard them say That the south was an ideal place To spend a perfect day. So when we received our orders That to Georgia we were bound, Full many a heart was gladdened At hearing that joyful sound. Wo started dreaming of a land Where it was always warm; And where the winds from out the north Could never do us harm. We visioned watermelon patches- And fields of peanuts green, Not to mention sweet potatoes, 'Twas a most wondrous dream But when at last we reached the south, We found to our dismay That it didn’t differ very much From other places on the way. To be sure, we found our peanuts But not with joy, for, alack! Besides being burned when roasted, They cost five cents a sack. We passed many fields of melons. Would wonders never cease? We got them fresh from off the vines, At just two bits a piece. But oh! The day w&s beautiful The sun was nice and hot. was much better than the north; Ours was a happy lot. But when we awoke in the morning. And jumped into our clothes, We were too glad to hurry For we were nearly froze. We freeze when we get up in the morning And roast later in the day. Take it from me, if I had any choice, I’d hike back to old PA. —Private Walter A. Anderson, Co. E, 112th U. S. Infantry. YANKEE PRISONER ELUDED_GERMANS His smile was better than a rifle. With it Lieut. Patrick Alva O’Brien, American member of the Canadian Royal Flying Corps disarmed suspic ion of his German captors who were taking him to a Teuton prison camp following his capture after an air battle in Flanders. When he asked them to open the window of his prison train compartment they complied readfw* The last the Boches saw of him was a pair if flying heels disappearing through the window, with the train running at 30 miles an hour. He brought his smile and. a thrilling story of adventure back to London, and is now eager to be at the front again. SERIES WITH THE KAISER It opened in bleeding Belgium, With the Kaiser at the bat, He won the game at Liege, And thought fie had the series pat. Then Jonny Bull went into pitch, And stopped the foe’s advance, While a feature of the game became The fielding work of France Russia went in to pinch hit. Along the Eastern Front, While Italy and Roumania each Laid down a perfect bunt. They trimmed old Bill at Vimy Hili, With woe they filled his cup, While out along the foul line, Unce Sam was warming up. Your Uncle Sam is warming up, To mount the pitching hill. And when he shows his speed and curves, He’ll strike out Kaiser Bill. The war machine to conquer worlds. Will know the very worst. When we hit one down to Hindenberg, And beat his throw to first. When Admiral Sims goes up to bat. And sweeps the subs from off the sea. And Pershing sliding into third, Spikes the Crown Prince on the knee. Yes. Uncle Sam is warming up, And after he goes in, We’ll be building baseball diamonds, In the City of Berlin. —SERGEANT CHAS. F. HOUSE, Head quarters Company, 103rd Regt., Engi neers. WE WHO STAY AT HOME (By the Mother of One of the 103rd Engineers.) When you were just a little boy on many a night we crept Unto your cot and watched o’er you, and all the time you slept. We tucked the covers round your form and smoothed your pillow, too; And sometimes stooped and kissed your cheek, but that you never knew. Just as we came to you back then, through many a night and day, Our spirits now shall come to you—• to kiss and watch and pray. Whenever you shall look away into God’s patch of sky. To think about the folks at home, we shall be standing by. And as we prayed and watched o’er you when you were wrapped in sleep. So through your soldier danger now the old-time watch we’ll keep. You will not know that we are there, you will not see or hear. But all the time in prayer and thought we shall be very near. The world has made of you a man; the work of man you do. But unto us .you still remain tire baby that wo knew; And we shall come, as once we did, on wondrous wings of prayer, And you will never know how oft in spirit we are there. We’ll stand beside your bed at night, in silence bending low. And all the love we gave you then shall follow where you go. Oh, we were proud of you back then, but we are prouder -now. We see the stamp of splendor God has placed upon your brow. And we who are the folks at home shall pray the old-time prayer, And ask the God of Mercy to protect you with His care. And as we came to you of old, although you never knew, Tire hearts of us, each day and night, shall come with love to you. —ALLIE WILLSON DROWN. Have You Written Home To Mother? Pray, may I ask you, worthy lad. Whose smile no care can smother, Though busy life throbs round about, Have you written home to mother? You are fast forgetting, aren’t you, quite, How fast the weeks went flying; And that a little, blotted sheet t Unanswered still is lying? Have you forgotten how her arm Stole ’round you to caress you? Have you forgotten those low words: “Good-bye, my son, God Bless You?” Oh! do not wrong her patient love; Save God’s, there is no other So faithful through all mists of sin; Fear not to write to mother. Tell her how hard it is to walk As walked the Master, lowly; Tell her how hard it is to keep A man’s life pure and holy; Tell her to keep the lamp of prayer, A light, a beacon burning; Whose beams shall reach you far away, Shall lure your soul returning. Tell her you love her dearly still. For fear some sad tomorrow Shall bear away your listening soul. And leave you lost in sorrow. And then, through bitter, falling tears, And sighs you may not smother, You will remember when too late, You did not write to mother. —Jane Ronalson in Banner of Gold. Contributed by Private Seeley, Base Hospital. 11*--■ I § ps!E II * B - I I gllf I Page 7