The next day, Sunday, I left for Paris, bidding farewell regretfully to the last of my British-officer hosts. He seemed like an old, old friend--though I had known him but a few days. I can see him now as he waved me a good-bye from the platform in his Glengarry cap and short tunic and plaid trousers. He is the owner of a castle and some seventy square miles of land in Scotland alone. For the comfort of his nation's guests, he toils like a hired courier. ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS: American religion as set forth by William James Be useful! Privilege of making blunders Rising every time you fall (Confucius on greatness) Sentimentalism, ignorance, close-mindedness, and cant The English do not advertise their sorrows End of Project Gutenberg's A Traveller in War-Time, by Winston Churchill