Mrs.Henry Casson, Islip, Long Island.

My mother is a widow; I don't--think she--can--stand----" Then he died--went out abruptly into eternity.
Beside him, in the grass, lay a zouave watching everything with great hollow eyes.

His body was only a mass of bloody rags; he had been shot all to pieces, yet the bleeding heap was breathing, and the big sunken eyes patiently watched Ailsa's canteen until she encountered his unwinking gaze.

But the first swallow he took killed him, horribly; and Ailsa, her arms drenched with blood, shrank back and crouched shuddering under the roots of a shattered tree, her consciousness almost deserting her in the roaring and jarring and splintering around her.

She saw more stretcher bearers in the smoke, stooping, edging their way--unarmed heroes of many a field who fell unnoted, died unrecorded on the rolls of glory.
A lieutenant of artillery, powder-blackened, but jaunty, called down to her from the bank above: "Look out, little lady.