“Well, dear Governor, this is a rough life, and some parts are not easy to bear. But I want you to know that I was never happier in all my days. I know that we are fighting for a good cause, justice, and freedom, and a world made clean from this beastly German militarism. The things that the Germans have done to France and Belgium must be stopped, and they must never be done again. We want a decent world to live in, and we are going to have it, no matter what it costs. Of course I should like to live through it all, if I can do it with honor. But a man never can tell what is going to happen. And I certainly would rather give up my life than the things we are fighting for--the things you taught me to believe are according to the will of God. So good-night for the present, Uncle, and sleep well. “Your loving nephew and son, “DICK.” Hardman's hand shook a little as he laid the paper on the table. “It is a beautiful letter,” he said. “Yes,” nodded the old professor, putting his hand upon it; “it is a classic; very clear and simple and high-minded. The German Crown Prince says our American soldiers do not know what they are fighting for. But Richard knew. It was to defend 'the things for which we live' that he gladly gave his life.” September, 1918. HALF-TOLD TALES THE NEW ERA AND CARRY ON The Commandant of the Marine Hospital was at his desk, working hard, when the door of the room was flung open and the Officer of the Day rushed in. “Sir,” he exploded, “the New Era has come.” “Very likely, Mr. Corker,” answered the Commandant. “It has been coming continually since the world began. But is that any reason why you should enter without knocking, and with your coat covered with bread-crumbs and cigarette-ashes?” So the Officer of the Day went outside, brushed his coat, knocked at the door, and awaited orders. “Mr. Corker,” said the Commandant, “have the kindness to bring me your report on the condition of yesterday's cases, and let me know what operations are indicated for to-day. Good morning. Orderly, my compliments to the Executive Officer, and I wish to see him at once.” When the Executive Officer arrived, he began: “Sir, the New Era--” “Quite so, Mr. Greel, but you understand this Hospital has to carry on as required in any kind of an era. How many patients did we receive yesterday? Good. Have we enough bedding and provisions? Bad. Attend to it immediately, and let me know the result of your efforts to remedy a situation which should never have arisen. The Navy cannot be run on hot air.” As the Executive Officer went out he held the door open for the Head Nurse to pass in. She was a fine, upstanding creature, tremulous with emotion. “Oh, Doctor,” she cried, “I simply must tell you about the New Era. Woman Suffrage is going to save the world.” “I hope so, Miss Dooby, it certainly needs saving. Meantime how are things in the pneumonia ward?”