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M. Georges Scott, the famous French war-artist, has given in these interesting sketches a reminiscence of a visit he paid recently to a French brigade headquarters near Verdun. On the way to the front he passed a number of German prisoners, in.parties of twenty escorted by two French soldiers, making their way to the rear through a desert of mud. A few stay Germans inquired the way, asking “ach Vrd ? ” Describing his arrival at the pots de comsanIsden, Ii. Scott wries: -” s ter, stooping, for the ceiling is r. (Ones more I pp the utility of the helmet which s happily protect one’s skulL) Two flights to descend-then a tephne-po On the lading are ied somecandles To the left is a ttle Swith a wooden latch. Here we are. I knock, and a deep voice ays, y Entren.’ I am now inside the cave. The Colonel greets me, with his staff captain and a esubeuteah Th were awaiting me for d4jen : the table was laid, with a serviette for cloth, and lit by candies wstck in pieces of weed. All one aend of the tle was covered with mp and ple. In the lee of this sbenanen rtreat, a cnrt to the noise outside the ofiers at once ask me for news of what is going forward in Paris. We chat, ilntrupted every moment
y tklehoe-iah. Ths a knack at the dear, and a igare appears, looking like a state of md. It is a runner, who hands the Colonel a lettr doubly enveloped in mud. I am ssy, Caloe’ he ays ‘It was a thal that burst r me and buried me.’ The Colonel sgns a receipt on the envelope; the muddy figure sales and disappears” Presently they went eat i the pper air. “Near the hadqutares,” continus M. Sctt, “is a poste d secours. . .. I find in this scene the strongest impresion of the awful brutality of war. I also find i ait s l arable eomple of the e anm and herism of our soldiecs. NL t a murmur of complaint pae their lips.” One picturesque figure arrested the artist’s eye. “A big k manm , bi fe cvmed with oiy ad that ran in ridges of dear yelow an his black skin, wre on his head and roun d his neck, in th Arab style, a scarf of brilliant red. His heet, aN did, was balanced on his ead. His body was a mas of dirty yellow dath, maade hapleso by mud. One hand, wounded, was wrapped in a white dressing. which threw the whale 1ga ft relief. What a stoy her a paidr, and how reality surpases all imaginatin I “-flh niqs Copefjoid in i Used S eSd kiC nds.l
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