It was closing twilight when we started back for the head-quarters that we had left in the early morning. The sun had set and the peace and serenity of the evening were broken only by the distant thunder of an occasional shell bursting in the west. From the ridge over which our road ran I could distinctly see the smoke from three different burning villages fired by the German artillery. One wonders what on earth the enemy have in mind when they deliberately shell these pathetic little patches of straw-thatched peasant homes. Even in ordinary times these people seem to have a hard life in making both ends meet, but now in the war their lot is a most wretched one. Apparently hardly a day passes that some village is not burned by the long range shells of the enemy’s guns. That such action has any military benefit seems unlikely. The mind of the enemy seems bent on destruction, and everywhere their foot is placed grief follows. The next morning for several hours I chatted with the General and his Chief of Staff, and found, as always at the Front, the greatest optimism. “Have you seen our soldiers at the Front?” is the question always asked, and when one answers in the affirmative they say, “Well, then how can you have any anxiety as to the future. These men may retire a dozen times, but demoralized or discouraged they are never. We shall win absolutely surely. Do not doubt it.” [Illustration: The Polish Legion.] One forms the opinion that the place for the pessimist is at the Front. In the crises one leaves the big cities in a cloud of gloom, and the enthusiasm and spirit increase steadily, until in the front trenches one finds the officers exercising every effort to keep their men from climbing out of their shelters and going across the way and bayoneting the enemy. The morale of the Russian Army as I have seen it in these last weeks is extraordinary.