The neglect he received in the field and base hospital and the horrible treatment he was compelled to witness, as endured by the wounded prisoners, was received with a storm of hisses. How he was pronounced cured, although he had been rendered dumb, either from nerve-shock or the force of the blow on the head, and then taken to a German prison-camp, and crowded in with hundreds of men in a wooden shed, with a flooring of mud four inches thick, aroused renewed indignation. Here, with no blankets, no ventilation, overcoat, or personal belongings, he slept on a straw tick, with insufficient food, and that of such a horrible quality that he grew emaciated and covered with boils. When some of the prisoners were transferred to another camp Philip told how he had the good luck to be one of them, and how, when the train was struck by a bursting bomb, crashing in the roof when going at a speed of thirty miles an hour, he, with two other prisoners, climbed up and jumped to the ground, one man being killed. This was the beginning of his race for life, in which he dodged guards and sentries, cut his way through barbed wire, and hid in a forest for three days, and, after many other thrilling adventures, finally came to a field within a few miles of the British lines. “Here,” Philip continued, “as we lay concealed in a dugout under a bank, we heard a familiar whirr, and looked up to see an air-battle taking place between a French and Boche plane. With taut breath I watched the planes circle round and round in the air, while keeping up a steady fire at one another, until the French plane began to drive its enemy back and back, until they were directly over the British entrenchments. Then we heard the rat-tat-tat, and knew that one of the planes had been fired upon from below. Suddenly it burst into flames, lunged to one side, and then, in a long sweep through the air, began to circle downward like a great flash of fire, sending forth a shower of sparks as it fell. And then I screamed from sheer joy, for I recognized that it was the Boche plane that had fallen. It is needless to say that my speech had returned.” After telling how they had regained the British lines, and how he had finally reached a hospital in London, where he remained for some weeks in a miserably depressed state of mind, on learning that his mother had died during his absence, Philip finished his story by telling how he came to sail for America. He told of his search for his grandmother, and how he came to live in the little cabin on the mountain. From the plaudits that greeted him, as he bowed and retired from the platform, it was evident that his story had been greatly enjoyed by his listeners.