So the train hastens on--no crawling this time--to the clearing house, the Base. Past the little sun-washed villages it runs, and the gleaming Seine brings smiles to wan faces. There, look, over there in the distance, are the wonderful spires and the quaint houses and the river, all fresh and laughing in the sun, and the trees up on the hill above the town are all tender green. Even if one is to die, one may get back home first; at all events, one has been spared to see God's clean country, and to breathe untainted air again. * * * * * _Printed in Great Britain by Hazell, Watson & Viney, Ld., London and Aylesbury, for Simpkin, Marshall, Hamilton, Kent & Co., Ltd._