"HERE WERE THE GENERALS, HERE WERE FLYING BANNERS,-HERE WAS GETTYSBURG"-A SECTION OF THE CYCLORAMA This celebrated Cyclorama is inclosed in a circular building over one hundred feet in diameter and fifty or more feet high. The picture, which is 364 feet long by 32 feet high, fits the inner walls. There is no opening for light in the great interior of the building except a skylight. Protecting the eyes of the observer is an enormous umbrella-like awning, over which the light falls from the skylight directly upon the picture "Seems to me I've heard that before," said one of the strangers. "Sounds familiar to me, too." Evans went on in a louder tone. "Now, gentlemen, move back here to a further distance." The three took ponderous steps like elephants in haste. One of them raised his arm to imitate Evans's gesture. "Now friends, you see there by that cannon"You call that a cannon! Why, that's a toy for a child to play with." A toy!" repeated Evans, still pleasantly. "You wouldn't think it was a toy if you got a charge from it in your leg. Why, the cannons shot away hundreds of tons of metal in these three lays!" "They shoot away that much in an hour on the other side." Evans began at last to be disturbed. "There was two hundred thousand men in this battle," he leclared. "Two hundred thousand!" repeated one of the strangers. That wasn't much more than an alley fight." Evans lowered his wand. His cheeks grew pale. 66 Why, friends, I know about this battle. I fought "-in his excitement he proceeded with inartistic haste to his climax. I fought "-with trembling hand the wand was directed again the center of the hottest fighting-" there! With Hays, riends, I got these wounds there." But to this audience Evans's wounds signified nothing. "If you'd been on the other side, there wouldn't 'a' been anything left of you.". "The other side!" repeated Evans. "You mean the Confederate side?" The three shouted. "The other side of the water! I mean, if the Germans were after you." Evans laid down his wand and folded his shaking arms. "Friends," said he, "this was a great battle. History says it, and I know it. Why, look at it!" he pointed tremulously with his finger. "See the throngs of men! See the horses! See there that mass of troops advancing! See them comin' behind by hundreds! See the cannon! See "On the other side they came by thousands," came the mocking answer. "This battle was nothing. This war was nothing." Old Evans was stupefied. He could only repeat, "Nothing!" "You have said it," said one visitor. "A little quarrel over some niggers," said another. Evans saw now the jeering faces and realized that these strange creatures had come to mock. He realized also the implications of their words. "This was a great war," he shouted. "It was in a just cause. That over there is "-he remembered gratefully a few serviceable words of the Burgess's-" is hellish butchery!" The visitors laughed at his ardor. "That is real war," said one. "That is worth something. No 'Alphonse-Gaston 'business about that! They know what they want and they get it. They go to a town. Here,' they say, 'we want so and so, and you deliver the goods. If you don't, you're dead.'" Old Evans moved a little away, not because of any physical fear, for he knew no such thing, but because of spiritual horror. "They shoot civilians!" he cried. "Why, in the battle of Gettysburg only one civilian was killed, and she was mourned by both sides. She was Jennie Wade, she-" 66 Shoot civilians-of course. Let the civilians get out." "They batter down churches!" cried Evans. "Would you expect the Germans to warm the sea?” asked another voice. "And women," said Evans. "You'd-you'd-” When one of the men laughed, Evans clung to the grating with his whole weight. Such words and such opinions defiled what was to him a holy place. "You must get out," he commanded. “You cannot stay here." "Bah, bah, bah!" said a voice. "We're glad to go." The three men moved through the grated door and Evans clicked it shut. But they were not through with poor old Evans. Between the two grated doors they mocked him again. 66 "Did you think you could fight the Germans?" asked one. Perhaps you thought you could scare 'em!" Evans's dreadful scar burned. "Get out!" said he. “Get out!” mocked one of the fat men. The voice maddened old Evans. His mind worked quickly. They need not think he was powerless; he would show them what he could do. He slipped through the second iron grating and shut with lightning swiftness the second grated door. "Then stay!" he shouted. "I'm going for the Burgess." The three men made a rush for the grated door. But the spring lock held. They looked upward. The grating could not by any possibility be scaled by a fat man. They looked back over their shoulders at the enormous picture with its dead and dying. It seemed to them that the smoke clouds moved. They began to curse sickeningly. 66 Bring your Burgess, and you'll get what's coming to you! You fool! Open this door! We couldn't be held for a minute. Not a second. Damn you! Open the door!" Old Evans stood facing them. One of them might have a revolver, but Evans was past caring for revolvers. His soul was sick and he was filled at the same time with rage. It was true, alas! that they could not be held. What they said boldly in defense of Germany was only what others hinted. Nothing could be done to them. The Burgess would have to let them go unpunished, even though he would long to imprison them. Tears came into Evans's eyes. Then old Evans had a second thought. There are ho when a man must make his own laws. Relentlessly he wa through the vestibule and closed the outer door. When was shut, not a sound could be heard, neither a cry nor a ear "There'll be a full moon," said Evans to himself, as crossed the street. "After a while it'll shine on Death pale horse. They can get water if they're thirsty and if have sense enough to open the closet door. I guess it's a le time since they drank water." Across the street there was the sound of pounding, and . carpenter Alec Dimmet looked down from the roof of his t porch. He stood like Thor, hammer in hand, grinning at friend whom he loved. "Alec," said Evans, "to-morrow morning, at nine o'cl when you see the Burgess coming, you go across to the Cyclora with him and he'll give you the ten dollars we owe you.” “All right,” said Alec. "They can still get to Philadelphia by to-morrow eveni said Evans, as he went down the street. At the blacksmith's he stopped. "John," said he, "you go out to the Cyclorama in the m ing and fix that hinge. Can you be there at nine sharp!" "I can," said the giant blacksmith. Before the little house where old Evans and the Bur lived together there waited a horse and buggy ready for Evans's annual journey to East Berlin. The Burgess st beside it, ready to seize the sober steed if he should by a remote chance decide to lift a foot before the time. "All ready?" asked the Burgess. Old Evans looked up at his friend. "Burgess, you won't fail to be at the Cyclorama in r morning?" "I'll be there." "Here is the key. Byers is coming at nine o'clock to ti hinge. I guess he'll walk up with you. And Dimmet's com for his money-ten dollars-you'll find it in the safe.” "I'll tend to it,” said the Burgess. Evans slapped the lines on the back of the old horse. I regretted the necessity for even a short hiatus in the commu between him and the Burgess. He was burning, also, with intense curiosity. That his friends would meet successfully situation provided for them he did not doubt. “I had three awful men with me this afternoon,” said "They said this was a little quarrel over a few niggers. Tr said everything the Germans did was right." "I wish I had my hands on them!" said the giant Burge Slowly at last the horse got under way. Old Evans loi back, his eyes gleaming. "Burgess," said he, “about ten o'clock to-morrow mor I'll 'phone up." BACK IN AN "EMPTY” (BY COURTESY OF THE UNITED STATES NAVY) BY RUTH WRIGHT KAUFFMAN OF THE VIGILANTES T ought to give me a queer feeling. I haven't seen a woman for nearly a week, except that all-too-familiar one of whom First place, no woman is allowed to be the only woman on a troop-ship. Second place, I am the only woman on this troop-ship, and I have managed to get through the danger zone and approach the Gulf Stream without seeing the least other sign of femininity. All the food has been bought, prepared, and served by men. We have had turkey and cranberry sauce, hot cakes and syrup, home-made white bread, and chocolate cake and ice-cream-and I've not missed a meal. The decks have been swabbed down by men, and, as a house wife, I pronounce them clean. The movies are run by men. The entire life is a man's life, with phrases like: "Look here, sonny, don't you know the U. S. Navy provides you with a piece of oilskin to keep the paint off your uniform! you think a minute, you'll realize that you're wasting Gore ment property. What's your name? Go below and get the a skin at once." And from one of the sailors: "Hey, Norrs better get those buckets emptied. Exec.'s coming around a eleven.” To tell the truth, I have almost come to forget that I am a man myself. A few weeks ago I was at a port in France that belongs! the Navy of the United States, with the co-operation of French navy. One night I went to a prize-fight—my fir among bluejackets in the navy theater. "Lady and gentlene was the way the announcements were made. A Navy orches played very well, I thought. I complimented the officer command. "It's pretty good now," he said. “But the men have practicing hard. The Admiral won't let them ashore until! TERNATIONAL FILM SERVICE en Wang, a Chinaman, was one of the class (c) G. V. BUCK THE SNAKE DANCE OF THE ANNAPOLIS GRADUATES The picture shows the graduates of the United States Naval Academy at the recent Commencement going through the fascinating evolutions of the "snake dance," which always calls forth the plaudits of the spectators. Like the corresponding class at the Military Academy at West Point, this class, because of the war, graduated a year ahead of the normal time. It numbered one less than two hundred members PICTURESQUE ASPECTS OF THE GRADUATING EXERCISES OF OUR ARMY AND NAVY TRAINING SCHOOLS INTERNATIONAL FILM SERVICE 97, BUT STILL AT WORK-AN EXAMPLE TO SLACKERS The picture shows a shipyard worker, A. J. Babcock, said to be 97 years old, but actively employed in shipyards at Tacoma, Washington. Though once the owner of a shipyard, he offered his services at the humble task of spinning oakum and is at his post daily PAUL THOMPSON FRENCH CHILDREN MADE HAPPY BY AMERICA'S GENEROSITY IN A VILLAGE NEAR The children have been supplied with toys by the American Fund for French Wounded and the Red Cross. They |