the americanization of edward bok-第68部分

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en　of　a　pig　as　he　had　ever　seen。　Catching　Bok's　smile；　the　officer　said：　〃That's　Pinney　and　his　porker。　Where　you　see　the　one　you　see　the　other。〃

Bok　caught　up　with　the　boy；　and　said：　〃Found　a　friend；　I　see；　Buddy？〃

〃I　sure　have；〃　grinned　the　doughboy；　〃and　it　sticks　closer　than　a　poor　relation；　too。〃

〃Where　did　you　pick　it　up？〃

〃Oh；　in　there；〃　said　the　soldier；　pointing　to　a　dilapidated　barn。

〃Why　in　there？〃

〃My　home；〃　grinned　the　boy。

〃Let　me　see；〃　said　Bok；　and　the　doughboy　took　him　in　with　the　pig　following　close　behind。　〃Billeted　herebeen　here　six　days。　The　pig　was　here　when　we　came；　and　the　first　night　I　lay　down　and　slept；　it　came　up　to　me　and　stuck　its　snout　in　my　face　and　woke　me　up。　Kind　enough；　all　right；　but　not　very　comfortable：　it　stinks　so。〃

〃Yes；　it　certainly　does。　What　did　you　do？〃

〃Oh；　I　got　some　grub　I　had　and　gave　it　to　eat：　thought　it　might　be　hungry；　you　know。　I　guess　that　sort　of　settled　it；　for　the　next　night　it　came　again　and　stuck　its　snout　right　in　my　mug。　I　turned　around；　but　it　just　climbed　over　me　and　there　it　was。〃

〃Well；　what　did　you　do　then？　Chase　it　out？〃

〃Chase　it　out？〃　said　the　doughboy；　looking　into　Bok's　face　with　the　most　unaffected　astonishment。　〃Why；　mister；　that's　a　mother…pig；　that　is。　She's　going　to　have　young　ones　in　a　few　days。　How　could　I　chase　her　out？〃

〃You're　quite　right；　Buddy；〃　said　Bok。　〃You　couldn't　do　that。〃

〃Oh；　no；〃　said　the　boy。　〃The　worst　of　it　is；　what　am　I　going　to　do　with　her　when　we　move　up　within　a　day　or　two？　I　can't　take　her　along　to　the　front；　and　I　hate　to　leave　her　here。　Some　one　might　treat　her　rough。〃

〃Captain；〃　said　Bok；　hailing　the　officer；　〃you　can　attend　to　that；　can't　you；　when　the　time　comes？〃

〃I　sure　can；　and　I　sure　will；〃　answered　the　Captain。　And　with　a　quick　salute；　Pinney　and　his　porker　went　off　across　the　road！

Bok　was　standing　talking　to　the　commandant　of　one　of　the　great　French　army　supply　depots　one　morning。　He　was　a　man　of　forty；　a　colonel　in　the　regular　French　army。　An　erect；　sturdy…looking　man　with　white　hair　and　mustache；　and　who　wore　the　single　star　of　a　subaltern　on　his　sleeve；　came　up；　saluted；　delivered　a　message；　and　then　asked：

〃Are　there　any　more　orders；　sir？〃

〃No；〃　was　the　reply。

He　brought　his　heels　together　with　a　click；　saluted　again；　and　went　away。

The　commandant　turned　to　Bok　with　a　peculiar　smile　on　his　face　and　asked：

〃Do　you　know　who　that　man　is？〃

〃No；〃　was　the　reply。

〃That　is　my　father；〃　was　the　answer。

The　father　was　then　exactly　seventy…two　years　old。　He　was　a　retired　business　man　when　the　war　broke　out。　After　two　years　of　the　heroic　struggle　he　decided　that　he　couldn't　keep　out　of　it。　He　was　too　old　to　fight；　but　after　long　insistence　he　secured　a　commission。　By　one　of　the　many　curious　coincidences　of　the　war　he　was　assigned　to　serve　under　his　own　son。

When　under　the　most　trying　conditions；　the　Americans　never　lost　their　sense　of　fun。　On　the　staff　of　a　prison　hospital　in　Germany；　where　a　number　of　captured　American　soldiers　were　being　treated；　a　German　sergeant　became　quite　friendly　with　the　prisoners　under　his　care。　One　day　he　told　them　that　he　had　been　ordered　to　active　service　on　the　front。　He　felt　convinced　that　he　would　be　captured　by　the　English；　and　asked　the　Americans　if　they　would　not　give　him　some　sort　of　testimonial　which　he　could　show　if　he　were　taken　prisoner；　so　that　he　would　not　be　ill…treated。

The　Americans　were　much　amused　at　this　idea；　and　concocted　a　note　of　introduction；　written　in　English。　The　German　sergeant　knew　no　English　and　could　not　understand　his　testimonial；　but　he　tucked　it　in　his　pocket；　well　satisfied。

In　due　time；　he　was　sent　to　the　front　and　was　captured　by　〃the　ladies　from　hell；〃　as　the　Germans　called　the　Scotch　kilties。　He　at　once　presented　his　introduction；　and　his　captors　laughed　heartily　when　they　read：

〃This　is　L。　He　is　not　a　bad　sort　of　chap。　Don't　shoot　him；　torture　him　slowly　to　death。〃

One　evening　as　Bok　was　strolling　out　after　dinner　a　Red　Cross　nurse　came　to　him；　explained　that　she　had　two　severely　wounded　boys　in　what　remained　of　an　old　hut：　that　they　were　both　from　Pennsylvania；　and　had　expressed　a　great　desire　to　see　him　as　a　resident　of　their　State。

〃Neither　can　possibly　survive　the　night；〃　said　the　nurse。

〃They　know　that？〃　asked　Bok。

〃Oh；　yes；　but　like　all　our　boys　they　are　lying　there　joking　with　each　other。〃

Bok　was　taken　into　what　remained　of　a　room　in　a　badly　shelled　farmhouse；　and　there；　on　two　roughly　constructed　cots；　lay　the　two　boys。　Their　faces　had　been　bandaged　so　that　nothing　was　visible　except　the　eyes　of　each　boy。　A　candle　in　a　bottle　standing　on　a　box　gave　out　the　only　light。　But　the　eyes　of　the　boys　were　smiling　as　Bok　came　in　and　sat　down　on　the　box　on　which　the　nurse　had　been　sitting。　He　talked　with　the　boys；　got　as　much　of　their　stories　from　them　as　he　could；　and　told　them　such　home　news　as　he　thought　might　interest　them。

After　half　an　hour　he　arose　to　leave；　when　the　nurse　said：　〃There　is　no　one　here；　Mr。　Bok；　to　say　the　last　words　to　these　boys。　Will　you　do　it？〃　Bok　stood　transfixed。　In　sending　men　over　in　the　service　of　the　Y。　M。　C。　A。　he　had　several　times　told　them　to　be　ready　for　any　act　that　they　might　be　asked　to　render；　even　the　most　sacred　one。　And　here　he　stood　himself　before　that　duty。　He　felt　as　if　he　stood　stripped　before　his　Maker。　Through　the　glassless　window　the　sky　lit　up　constantly　with　the　flashes　of　the　guns；　and　then　followed　the　booming　of　a　shell　as　it　landed。

〃Yes；　won't　you；　sir？〃　asked　the　boy　on　the　right　cot　as　he　held　out　his　hand。　Bok　took　it；　and　then　the　hand　of　the　other　boy　reached　out。

What　to　say；　he　did　not　know。　Then；　to　his　surprise；　he　heard　himself　repeating　extract　after　extract　from　a　book　by　Lyman　Abbott　called　The　Other　Room；　a　message　to　the　bereaved　declaring　the　non…existence　of　death；　but　that　we　merely　move　from　this　earth　to　another：　from　one　room　to　another；　as　it　were。　Bok　had　not　read　the　book　for　years；　but　here　was　the　subconscious　self　supplying　the　material　for　him　in　his　moment　of　greatest　need。　Then　he　remembered　that　just　before　leaving　home　he　had　heard　sung　at　matins；　after　the　prayer　for　the　President；　a　beautiful　song　called　〃Passing　Souls。〃　He　had　asked　the　rector　for　a　copy　of　it；　and；　wondering　why；　he　had　put　it　in　his　wallet　that　he　carried　with　him。　He　took　it　out　now　and　holding　the　hand　of　the　boy　at　his　right；　he　read　to　them：

　　For　the　passing　souls　we　pray；　　　Saviour；　meet　them　on　their　way；　　　Let　their　trust　lay　hold　on　Thee　　　Ere　they　touch　eternity。

　　Holy　counsels　long　forgot　　　Breathe　again　'mid　shell　and　shot；　　　Through　the　mist　of　life's　last　pain　　　None　shall　look　to　Thee　in　vain。

　　To　the　hearts　that　know　Thee；　Lord；　　　Thou　wilt　speak　through　flood　or　sword；　　　Just　beyond　the　cannon's　roar；　　　Thou　art　on　the　farther　shore。

　　For　the　passing　souls　we　pray；　　　Saviour；　meet　them　on　the　way；　　　Thou　wilt　hear　our　yearning　call；　　　Who　hast　loved　and　died　for　all。

Absolute　stillness　reigned　in　the　room　save　for　the　half…suppressed　sob　from　the　nurse　and　the　distant　booming　of　the　cannon。　As　Bok　finished；　he　heard　the　boy　at　his　right　say　slowly：　〃Saviour…meet…me…on…my…way〃：　with　a　little　emphasis　on　the　word　〃my。〃　The　hand　in　his　relaxed　slowly；　and　then　fell　on　the　cot；　and　he　saw　that　the　soul　of　another　brave　American　boy　had　〃gone　West。〃

Bok　glanced　at　the　other　boy；　reached　for　his　hand；　shook　it；　and　looking　deep　into　his　eyes；　he　left　the　little　hut。

He　little　knew　where　and　how　he　was　to　look　into　those　eyes　again！

Feeling　the　need　of　air　in　order　to　get　hold　of　himself　after　one　of　the　most　solemn　moments　of　his　visit　to　the　front；　Bok　strolled　out；　and　soon　found　himself　on　what　only　a　few　days　before　had　been　a　field　of　carnage　where　the　American　boys　had　driven　back　the　Germans。　Walking　in　the　trenches　and　looking　out；　in　the　clear　moonlight；　over　the　field　of　desolation　and　ruin；　and　thinking　of　the　inferno　that　had　been　enacted　there　only　so　recently；　he　suddenly　felt　his　foot　rest　on　what　seemed　to　be　a　soft　object。　Taking　his　〃ever…ready〃　flash　from　his　pocket；　he　shot　a　ray　at　his　feet；　only　to　realize　that　his　foot　was　resting　on　the　face　of　a　dead　German！

Bok　had　had　enough　for　one　evening！　In　fact；　he　had　had　enough　of　war　in　all　its　aspects；　and　he　felt　a　sigh　of　relief　when；　a　few　days　thereafter；　he　boarded　The　Empress　of　Asia　for　home；　after　a　ten…weeks　absence。

He　hoped　never　again　to　see；　at　first　hand；　what　war　meant！



XXXVI。　The　End　of　Thirty　Years'　Editorship

On　the　voyage　home；　Edward　Bok　decided　that；　now　the　war　was　over；　he　would　ask　his　company　to　release　him　from　the　editorship　of　The　Ladies'　Home　Journal。　His　original　plan　had　been　to　retire　at　the　end　of　a　quarter　of　a　century　of　editorship；　when　in　his　fiftieth　year。　He　was；　therefore；　six　years　behind　his　schedule。　In　October；　1919；　he　would　reach　his　thirtieth　anniversary　as　editor；　and　he　fixed　upon　this　as　an　appropriate　time　for　the　relinquishment　of　his　duties。

He　felt　he　had　carried　out　the　conditions　under　which　the　editorship　of　the　magazine　had　been　transferred　to　him　by　Mrs。　Curtis；　that　he　had　brought　them　to　fruition；　and　that　any　further