"It's chewing gum," he answered; "real American chewing gum like the girls chew in the subway in New York." He unwrapped it, selected a piece, placed it in his mouth, and began chewing it with elaborated enjoyment. After a few minutes, he came nearer. "By golly," he said, with an exaggerated nasal drawl, "it's good gum, I'll soon begin to feel like a blooming Yank. I'm talking like a Yank already. Don't you wish you had some of this?" "I'll make you a sporting offer," I answered. "I'll fight you for the rest of what you've got." "No, you won't," he answered nasally; "it's made me feel exactly like a Yank; I'm too proud to fight." (This Newfoundland soldier-boy here tells about his experiences in "No Man's Land"; his fights with the Turks; how he was wounded and sent his last message "home"; how he finally recovered and returned to America.--EDITOR.) FOOTNOTE: [6] All numerals relate to stories herein told--not to chapters in the book. SCENES "IN A FRENCH HOSPITAL" _Stories of a Nurse_ _By M. Eydoux-Demians--Translated by Betty Yeomans_ This is a wonderful revelation of the soul of France. It gives "impressions of things actually seen and heard, revealing the wonderful courage and emotion that exists to-day in a French provincial hospital." These notes have been collected in a volume dedicated: "To My Five Brothers Wounded in the Service of France." These touching and inspiring stories of the wounded and nurses in a French hospital and told with a dramatic and literary power which make them little masterpieces. They form a most realistic picture of the human side of the Great War. The selections herein given are from the hundreds of thrilling anecdotes in the book, by courtesy of the publishers, _Duffield and Company_: Copyrighted 1915. [7] I--STORIES OF THE WOUNDED ON THEIR BEDS On October sixth, (1914) last, I received a message from the directress of the Hospital of Saint Dominic, reading as follows: "A large number of wounded have just arrived. We can't take care of any more ourselves, and the moment has come to call for volunteers. I shall expect your help." One hour later, as you can easily imagine, I was at Saint Dominic. This specially privileged hospital is under the gentle management of the Sisters of St. Vincent de Paul. Several years ago some of its devoted trustees made one effort after another on its behalf in Paris, and, after overcoming many difficulties, reëstablished the Sisters of Charity amongst us once again. They had not a doubt even then that they were working in the interests of France's soldiers, those same soldiers whose faces light up now with such a special joy when they lie on their painful stretchers, and catch sight, near the large entrance porch, of the good white cornettes of the Sisters waiting for them.