While we were at lunch a woman stopped before our window a moment in her flight and said to us, "From your window you must be able to see the firing of the cannon. The light can be seen from here." In fact, from the upper story we can distinguish plainly a veritable whirlwind of artillery. It is on the plain of Monthyon that the firing is the most sustained. Mingled with the roar of cannon and the rattle of machine guns we can hear men shouting and trumpets sounding the charge. They tell us it is our brave Zouaves and our Moroccan sharp-shooters who are down there in the valley, while the enemy artillery is on the hills. With the naked eye we can see very plainly brown specks advancing in columns. Shells are bursting three miles from us as the crow flies. Black and white tufts mount and spread about in the air. Under these tufts fires spring up, and farmhouses, woods, and mills burst into flames. The fire and noise are hellish! We have in front of us the magnificent panorama formed by the heights of Monthyon and Penchard, Chauconin, Neufmontiers; in the background, Chambry and Barcy. All these little wooded hill-tops stand out like lace-work against the clear sky. In the lowlands, on the right of the valley, is Meaux, with its cathedral towering over it; below, in the foreground, winds the Marne; between us and the river are the great trees of the Aulnois woods and our own garden. Can it be possible that in this marvellous setting, in this peaceful countryside and radiant sunshine, men are killing each other? Each of the combatants claims God on his side. And yet, did not His messenger on earth say: "Love one another"? What have the sons of men done with Christ's doctrines of love--charity--peace? As long as time endures, in order that ideals may live, must the earth be drenched with blood and tears? What harvest will be garnered from all this mowing down of tender youth, cut off here before our eyes? Oh, the crushing guilt that weighs on the instigators of such a war, and the terrible responsibility that is on their heads! Civilization seems nothing but an empty word, that no longer has the slightest meaning. We are not, alas, ripe for universal peace. And yet, how happy nations could be if these mountains of gold that are being melted up for their destruction could be used for their well-being! Shall we ever attain to the ideal of peace? Perhaps, but before that time what suffering will be ours! For the present, we must drive out the invaders, thrust back this cursed and ambitious people which has long been preparing for war, and reduce it to impotence. Our brave soldiers are setting at the task body and soul. All political parties have put aside their differences and, for the sake of the common cause, are walking hand in hand. May victory keep and strengthen this spirit! It would be the first step on the road to happiness.