This was precisely the disposition which the General in Chief had wished to see achieved. On the 4th he decided to take advantage of it, and ordered all the armies to hold themselves ready. He had taken from his right two new army corps, two divisions of infantry, and two divisions of cavalry, which were distributed between his left and his centre. On the evening of the 5th he addressed to all the commanders of armies a message ordering them to attack. "The hour has come," he wrote, "to advance at all costs, and to die where you stand rather than give way." _(To be continued in the next issue.)_ BY THE NORTH SEA. By W.L. COURTNEY. [From King Albert's Book.] Death and Sorrow and Sleep: Here where the slow waves creep, This is the chant I hear, The chant of the measureless deep. What was sorrow to me Then, when the young life free Thirsted for joys of earth Far from the desolate sea? What was Sleep but a rest, Giving to youth the best Dreams from the ivory gate, Visions of God manifest? What was Death but a tale Told to faces grown pale, Worn and wasted with years-- A meaningless thing to the bale? Death and Sorrow and Sleep: Now their sad message I keep, Tossed on the wet wind's breath, The chant of the measureless deep. When Marthe Chenal Sang the "Marseillaise" By Wythe Williams [From THE NEW YORK TIMES, Feb. 14, 1915.] I went to the Opéra Comique the other day to hear Marthe Chenal sing the "Marseillaise." For several weeks previous I had heard a story going the rounds of what is left of Paris life to the effect that if one wanted a regular old-fashioned thrill he really should go to the Opéra Comique on a day when Mlle. Chenal closed the performance by singing the French national hymn. I was told there would be difficulty in securing a seat. I was rather skeptical. I also considered that I had had sufficient thrills since the beginning of the war, both old fashioned and new. I believed also that I had already heard the "Marseillaise" sung under the best possible circumstances to produce thrills. One of the first nights after mobilization 10,000 Frenchmen filled the street beneath the windows of THE NEW YORK TIMES office, where I was at work. They sang the "Marseillaise" for two hours, with a solemn hatred of their national enemy sounding in every note. The solemnity changed to a wild passion as the night wore on. Finally, cuirassiers of the guard rode through the street to disperse the mob. It was a terrific scene. So I was willing to admit that the "Marseillaise" is probably the most thrilling and most martial national song ever written, but I was just not keen on the subject of thrills.