+ ous spot,' Sem's Entrance Into Verdun : CODCOD PI rity tpi lr CHOICE bit of "Un Pekin sure 'le Front" (and, this time, in a bumorous vein) is the chapter describing the entry of Sem, Parisian ¢artoon- ist beloved by the French, into Ver- dun: "It is morning and it rains. "A formidable, uninterrupted rumbling keeps the air vibrating and the rain trembling. "Over yonder, just beyond tragically desolate open space, Yerdun, * 'Look out!' says Captain ---- tc me, 'we are going to cross a danger- "Ah! AB! Foabrink up into the corner of the auto. I roll njyseit into a ball, rd "1 make sure of my helwé:, enter- ing it as far as | can, pulling it down with both bands, as if I wanted to get my whole self into it Et allez dofic. The chauffeur, a bit pale, makes the: motor do its best, the auto plunges into the danger zone and is enguifed in one of the monumental gates that pierce the venerable ramparts of Vauban. Ca yest! 1am in Verdun! "We drive on toward the citadel on the other side of the city, where we are expected. "At last, we are confronted with lofty, sodded glac's, a sort of geome- trically-ribbed bill, at the foot of which opens an arched portal, black as the entrance of a tunnel, whose depths appear to be punctured ith timy bright lights. Soldiers are grouped before it; two sentinels, with bayonets set, mount guard. is the citadel. "The auto stops. At the precize in- stant I step out, our arrival is salut. ed by four terrible explosions-- four German shells that fall I know not where. Surely, not so very far away, As to that, for every self-respecting War correspondent, every shell falls at a ce of from thirty to fifty yards*=~never more, "There are something like a hun- dred paces between me and the cita- del entrance, a hundred exposed paces. 1 do not hesitate. I take my fear in both bands, I make a wild dash, and I throw myself, completely winded, under the protecting porch. *'Ouf! None too soon! A second flight of mitraille bursts with a crash as before, near the auto. Iam seized with a little nervous panting, relieve ed laugh, like the People who, sur- by a shower, take refuge after & flurried flight under a porte cochere. *'All the same, I am a bit ashamed of my precipitation. In the presence of these impassive soldiers, who are eyeing me, I feel myself grow bright red under my too-blue helmet. There is no mistake abopt it, I lacked nerve, my entry is a fallure. | should have arrived smiling, with the easy step of a man taking a con- stitutional. I endeavor to save face, to create a diversion. this is It my coat, ane a wet dog. Brrr! ppant, 'Good heavens, shower!' * 'Monsieur should have taken his riflaud!' breathes behind me a ban- tering voice. I do not insist and I plunge into the darkness of the long tunnel. ., , "I am unui ; i iH Bag i: g i ; § gL s7¢k ] § 5 gE Surely try a '"'Danderine Hair * Cleanse" it you wish to Immediately | double the beauty of your hair. Just moisten a cloth with Danderine and draw It carefully through your hair, ta one i THE DAILY BRITISH WHIG, TUESDAY, DECEMBER 11, 1917. city Is so novel, so inieresting- How agreeable I find this citadel! - " 'Aren't you ashamed, espece de pekin! Allons, ouste! Into the aute with you!' "Daylight again, under a shower, in the tumult of the cannon. We cross full tilt the deserted country, At last, on an elevation, the fort, The autos stop. We climb the slope. We enter. Under the sonorous postern, a sound of musket butts, an energetic command: 'Present arms!' The post salutes. "Just behind the general, between the lines of motionless fixed-eyed sol- diers, I advance, convinced of my im- portance, taking to myself a part of the salute--my hand at the rim of my helmet, in the most approved military fashion, "Barely past, 1 look back, just in time to see a sturdy 'poilu' fairly convulsed with hilarity, "But what is he laughing at? Can it be at me perchance? "I begin to distrust my helmet. "We rest only an instant at the fort. "After a rather long course across country, we reach a sort of eminence that dominates the entire region. There, the general stops, and, sud- denly growing grave, he points to the panorama spread out before us, and says: 'The battlefield of Verdun!' "I shiver. Instinctively, I ua- cover, as in a church." GERMANY AND IRELAND. How Huns Have Tried to Use Feel ings of Unrest, German love for the born of expediency. The Imperial Government looked upon Ireland as a desirable base of operations and upon the Irish people as fitting mediums for the advance- ment of Germany's plans. Bernstorff recommended intensive cultivation of the spirit of unrest ex- hibited by the Irish and to that end urged that money and influence be exerted by German emissaries in the United States as well as in Ireland. Casement was gulled into taking action that cost him his life and with the exception of rioting, led by that body of irreconcilables which has ever afflicted Ireland, German plot- ting proved abortive, German propaganda failed as re- gards Ireland and mo wonder. The professions of friendship and comradeship expressed at that time for Ireland by Germany was too pal- pably part of the German same. The true German opinion of the Irish may be gathered from the fol- lowing extract culled from the great German encyclopedia, the Converss- Lexicon of. Meyer: "The character of the genuine Irish is a singular mixture of op- posite traits; many of them, no doubt, developed by their unfortun-~ ate history. The main feature of the Irish is inconsistency and thought. lessness, though they jeans aul characters as are compatible w these vices. The Irishman lacks rea- soning power, perseverance, and self- control. He possesses a poetical faculty and a taste for art, musie, and rhetoric. He is keen for know- ledge, cunning, clever, and witty, al- though for the sake of deception he often pretends to be stupid and nalve. But with all his intellectual powers he lacks profoundity. Su- perficial in his actions and thoughts, untrustworthy as a worker, Irish was great task in Hite and is Jasapuble 3 ng res commensurate He ane ser ns Ti are not his relations or friends dare not trust him. The proverb seems true that when an Irishman is stab bed, another Irishman is always bound to drive the dagger in. Trea- Son has always been a prominent feature in all Irish risings. Con- scientiousness is consp! lack- ing in the Irishman, and he is not distinguished for his love of truth. and he forgets to provide ture. Though often a vie- Pasar ut, 5b ecessary, quite contented if he only has pota- toes to eke out his life." 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