THEN we reached the far corner of the rubbleheap which was once a town, and it was a shock to the eyes suddenly to come upon a dozen or two houses—a whole street, in fact—spared from destruction. “Here is the Hospice,” said Monsieur Dufael. “I sent no word to Soeur Julie.

IT was during the last annual meeting of the Canadian Manufacturers’ Association at Montreal that two men of quite considerable prominence in the world of industry stood together in the rotunda of one of the large hotels. “The war has had some remarkable effects,” said one of them.

A RAW wind from the sea swept against the mammoth building of the New Yurk Monthly Journal. The editor of that classic publication stretched his arms lazily, then crossed to the rattling window and looked at Broadway, far beneath. A few belated flakes of snow mingled with the dust that eddied about in little whirlpools of wind.