Baedeker's proposal here means sure death to the reader who tries it. That section is lined with machine guns. If a man began turning and inspecting, he would be shot. Baedeker's statement is too casual. It sounds like a suggestion for a leisurely walk. It isn't a sufficient warning against doing something which shortens life. The word "inspect" is unfortunate. It gives the reader the idea he is invited to nose around those locks, when he had really better quiet down and keep away. The sentries don't want him there. I should have written that sentence differently. His kind of unconsidered advice leads to a lot of sadness. "The Rue Longue contains a few quaint old houses." It doesn't contain any houses at all. There are some heaps of scorched rubble. "Quaint" is word painting. "On the south side of this square rises the dignified Cloth Hall." There is nothing dignified about a shattered, burned, tottering old building. Why will he use these literary words? "With a lately restored belfry." It seems as if this writer couldn't help saying the wrong thing. A Zouave gave us a piece of bronze from the big bell. It wasn't restored at all. It was on the ground, broken. "The church has a modern timber roof." There he goes again--the exact opposite of what even a child could see were the facts. And yet in his methodical, earnest way, he has tried to get these things right. That church, for instance, has no roof at all. It has a few pillars standing. It looks like a skeleton. I have a good photograph of it, which the reader can see on page 69. If Baedeker would stand under that "modern timber roof" in a rainstorm, he wouldn't think so much of it. "The Hotel de Ville contains a small collection of paintings." I don't like to keep picking on what he says, but this sentence is irritating. There aren't any paintings there, because things are scattered. You can see torn bits strewed around on the floor of the place, but nothing like a collection. I could go on like that, and take him up on a lot more details. But it sounds as if I were criticising. And I don't mean it that way, because I believe the man is doing his best. But I do think he ought to get out another edition of his book, and set these points straight. He puts a little poem on his title page: Go, little book, God send thee good passage, And specially let this be thy prayer Unto them all that thee will read or hear, Where thou art wrong, after their help to call, Thee to correct in any part or all. That sounds fair enough. So I am going to send him these notes. But it isn't in "parts" he is "wrong." There is a big mistake somewhere. GOLDEN LADS "Golden lads and girls all must, As chimney-sweepers, come to dust." THE PLAY-BOYS OF BRITTANY LES FUSILIERS MARINS