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It hasthat you are doing for irls of our country that I had to write and tell you howwhether so you a sweater yet, and the other things that they knit for soldiers; and if they haven't, whether you would letI can do for you who have done soto have written this on the strength of a childish acquaintance I wish you all honors that can come to you on such a quest as yours, and I had alood luck, only that that word sounds too frivolous and pagan for such a serious matter; so I will say all safety for a swift acco I used to think when I was a little child that nothing could ever hurt you ornow that you will coh the fire unscathed May I hope to hear fron myself Your friend?

RUTH MACDONALD

John Cameron lifted his eyes from the paper at last and looked up at the sky Had it ever been so blue before? At the trees What whispering wonders of living green! Was that only a bird that was singing that heavenly song--a el? Why had he never appreciatedoak and his soldier's hat fell off on the ground He closed his eyes and the burden of loneliness that had borne down upon him all these weeks in the camp lifted from his heart Then he tried to realize what had come to him Ruth Macdonald, the wonder and admiration of his childhood days, the admired and envied of the hoirl who had everything that wealth could purchase! She had remembered the little old rose he had dared to throw on her desk, and had bridged the years with this letter!

He was carried back in spirit to the day he left for camp To the look in her eyes as he moved away on the train The look had been real then, and not just a fleeting glance helped out by his fevered iination There had been true friendliness in her eyes She had intended to say good-bye to him! She had put hihted him, as it were, and sent him forth! Even the war had beco forth to fight her battles What a sacred trust!