He hastily drew a picture out of his wallet.
"Look, cousin, how beautiful she is—I adore her!"
Two hours later a bullet penetrated his thigh while he was in 0 crater.
Now he is in a little white bed and in a few weeks he will be able to see her again——
THE ONE WHO READS PLUTARCH.
January, 1916.
While looking over the first line of Calonne Trench, I found a poilu, seated on the ground, reading.
"What is that you are reading?" I questioned.
"A translation of Plutarch."
"It's all right to read history, my friend, but you are doing better—you are making greater history yourself—Read on!"
MAJOR ANTHOINE'S CANDLE, MONT-SUR-LES-CÔTES.
February, 1916.