I.—England.
“In a corner of the bonny little churchyard of Frongoch, adjoining the extended camp, there are two solitary graves. Here, in a strange land, the land of their captivity, two German prisoner soldiers lie at rest, as in many a plot of ground in France and Flanders, German and British lie together, strife hushed in the last sleep. Here there are no grim sounds and sights of battle, but instead there is all the peace and beauty of a lovely spring. Immediately beyond the graves a wooded bank descends to the stream, and over and through the fresh green foliage, amidst which the birds are happily melodious this bright April morning, and all around can be seen the mountains of Wales, the ‘land of freedom.’ Over the grave of one of these liberated captives is a tombstone erected at the expense of, and engraved by, his fellow prisoners. It marks the place where Hugo Schröter, Under-Officer of one of the Crown Prince’s Infantry Regiments, who died on April 9, 1915, as the result of wounds received in the cause of his country, was laid to rest by his grateful comrades.
“The other grave has no stone as yet, but one is being prepared. It is that of a prisoner who died of consumption, after many months of lingering suffering in the hospital, where every care was bestowed upon him. It was in reference to this man that the Chief Officer wrote me: ‘To our regret died last Thursday the patient in the isolation hospital. If only he could have seen the two beautiful bunches of violets you sent! The funeral took place yesterday at 10-30. It was an impressive sight but a very sad one, too.’
“My daughter laid a little offering of white flowers on the grave, and then I photographed them in order to send copies to the families of the poor men, which I hope may prove little winged messengers of sympathy and goodwill.”
W. Whiting.