He surprises the sentry, chokes him into insensibility, trusses him up, and crawls back to his men. The reconnaissance completed they return to their lair in a little wood. They are troubled about the fate of the sentry. “My sergeant, my two soldiers, and myself recite a decade of the Rosary for him. One of the soldiers refused at first to pray for a Boche. It was necessary to explain a whole heap of theological matters to him on charity in time of war. He at last consented on condition that we should say two other decades for our own dear soldiers.... I do not dare to say that I find pleasure in the work I have to do. But when I think of our poor France, and of the crimes of these barbarians: if you knew what they have done!” So runs the record. Everywhere you find the priest first in danger, and in abnegation, confessing his comrades in the trenches, then heading their bayonet-charge; after the battle, his rifle laid aside, he is whispering consolation into the ear of some poor broken enemy, Pole or German, launched against civilisation by the bloodthirsty megalomania of a Prussian Emperor. I cannot close this paper of random instances without transcribing in full the story of Sister Julie of Gerbeviller. This is how her name stands in the _Journal Officiel_-- “By order of the Minister of War to be Chevalier of the Legion of Honour: Mme. Amélie Rigard, in religion Sister Julie, nurse at the field hospital of Gerbeviller.” Appointed by her Superior to this hospital, she remained at her post during an incessant bombardment in charge of a thousand wounded. She fed and cared for them, and saved them, by the calm authority of her manner, from being put to death during the German occupation. Can one read without a thrill of pride and admiration this glorious salute paid by soldiers of France to the heroic nun? On the recapture of Gerbeviller a squadron of _chasseurs_ halts before the hospital.... The captain asks to see Sister Julie. “Sister, will you do us a favour? Permit me to parade my soldiers before you.” Prevailing with difficulty over her modesty, the captain has his way. Turning to his squadron, he orders the “Portez lance!” “Comrades, you remember when we checked the Germans here on August 25th. We saw in this direction huge flames rising up into the heavens. You see what these flames meant.... “Well in the middle of this evacuated village, under the shells and bullets, even after the retreat of our heroic infantry who--one against ten--had held the bridge so long, a woman remained here at the post of charity attending to the wounded, lavishing her care on all. It was Sister Julie. “The President of the Republic has hung on her breast the Cross of the brave. Salute it!” So, with swords and lances at the salute, the squadron swept on to battle.