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A TOUCHING INCIDENT. At tho ond of bis description of the horrors of tho German retreat from the Marne, tho correspondent of ' The Times ' writes:— ''Listen! A deeper sound. How grand in it.s .swing, and nervethrilling you to the very marrow. 'Humtb-h-h!' A huge train swings ncross the distance, and there are the khaki-dad British troops at every door and window. Do you know how good that sight is? But you have not lived hero through tho dark days that are past; you have not tasted the full bitterness of the suspense hours nf the week of Mons and Charleroi; • Hnr-rah-h-h!' Tho jolly faces, the grand ' boy : faees' of England. . . . And the train draws out across the old, old

plains of France. . . . You can just catch tho lilt of it, ' It's a long way to Tipperary.' T'noy, too, go to the fierce chase across the river. And that was a great moment. It was like another which I experienced one evening at Havre, and which so long-as I live 1 shall cherish. There was, 1 remember, a great sunset that night—one of those mighty banners of crimson and saffron that break from right above the zenith and are sproad to the deep horizons of the sea. In the harbor lay the Tennessee, the American battleship, awaiting her complement of refugees from threatened Paris. Suddenly the lock gates were swung apart. A great booming of steam whistles announced the passing of a transport. . She swung down on the tide, hor-very decks thronged with soldiers. She drew abreast of the black war vessel, with its long, grim funnels—very solemnly and stately between pilot and following tugs. The fluttering Stars and Stripes at tho stern-post of the American was dipped in greeting, a full and friondly sympathy. For remember, this was the week nf Mons. Suddenly there broke forth from all these' decks that grandest of all our war songs (and why do wa sing it so seldom:-'): When Britain first at Heaven's command Arose from out the azure main. This was tho Charter of the land, And guardian snug tho strain. And then an amazing thing happened. Tho gallant American soldiers took up the rolling chorus: — Rule Britannia, Britannia rules the waves, Britons nover, never, never shall heslaves.

ft was the most perfect act of brot'ierliness which I have ever witnessed.

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A BRITISH CHEER, Issue 15642, 5 November 1914

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A BRITISH CHEER Issue 15642, 5 November 1914

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