We slept in barns and houses and under the unroofed sky, as we halted on our march. At one of our halting places, after a fatiguing day, we slept in an immense electric-lighted cave, big enough to shelter several thousand people. It had been excavated, we were told, by French soldiers,--prisoners of war, under the direction of their German taskmasters. It was divided into rooms, in many cases luxuriously fitted with baths, bed furniture, rugs, and set bowls with water. Apparently all the material for its furnishing was plundered from destroyed villages and near-by homes. Some of these were left with scrupulous care, as though their German occupants expected to return and resume their use. In several of these were insulting inscriptions such as “Gottstrafe England, der Schweinhund!” Jot was with me while I was viewing these wonderful excavations, and translated for me some of the inscriptions which do not bear repeating. I was so indignant that I hastily said to Jot, “I should be ashamed to speak the language of such brutes!” To which Jot replied, “If those who speak German were as noble as their language, I could almost forgive them their trespasses.” And then, as though excusing them, quoted a sentence from my Latin reader, “In the midst of wars the laws are silent.” After two weeks’ march through ruined France, the scenes began to change. Villages and cities unscathed by war’s blighting touch began to appear along our line of march. These were all the more beautiful by contrast with those scorched and withered by the destroying hand of the Hun. Stately palace-like residences, lovely châteaus, vine-clad cottages, stately public buildings and churches, appeared in vivid contrast to the war-ruined villages over which war had spread its wings of desolation. We saw many sad faces and heard many sad stories from the brave daughters of France, mothers of heroes then contending with the German hordes. But their faces brightened at the sight of our flag. They recognized it as the emblem of freedom, and those who bore it as faithful allies and friends. Matrons, young women, girls, and children thronged around us at every halting place. Some offered us food, others wreaths and bouquets, and all greeted us with glad smiles and cheers of welcome. We had halted, stacked arms, and thrown ourselves sprawling upon the ground among the vine-covered cottages when, on a little plateau above us, we saw a fluttering of the stars and stripes from the roof of an unpretentious dwelling. Then word ran around that it was the home of an American woman. Soon there appeared a little matron whose face and bearing proclaimed her nationality--American!