their heads inward, forming a kind of shell. Except for slightly shifting their positions sometimes, the bees forming this shell remain in their places all the winter through. But in the space enclosed by the shell strange things go on, for here there is plenty of room for the other bees of the hive to take exercise.

When they begin to feel the cold, the bees inside the shell begin to stir about very energetically, moving their wings quickly up and down, shaking their little bodies from side to side, and breathing very quickly.

By doing all this they become warmer, and at the same time raise the temperature within their hive, so that the layers of bees making the shell share the added warmth.

Whenever the air inside the hive begins to lose its warmth and seems cold to the bees, although you and I would call it a temperate heat, they set to work in this sensible way to heat themselves and their home. The colder it grows outside the hive, the longer and more briskly do they work to warm the air inside it. It is really wonderful what a high temperature the sagacious little insects can produce. When it is freezing hard, or the snow is falling thick outside, inside the hive it is almost as hot as on a summer day.

Should any of the bees that form the shell die, their companions remove them, and a living bee creeps into the empty place. N. TOURNEUR.

AN UP-TO-DATE LOG-CABIN

BEING a gipsy by nature, a certain wellknown singer has not been able to adapt himself to traveling in trains and to the life of modern hotels. Yet his work takes him all over the country, and he must have some means of transportation. Some time ago he struck on the idea of taking his home along with him, and a compact threeroom bungalow, mounted on the chassis of a motor-car, was the result of his planning.

Brought up among the redwoods of his native State, California, he chose a section from one of these enormous trees and had it hollowed out to a four-inch shell. The partitions and built-in features-furniture

FRANCE, MAY 18, 1918.

DEAR TOWNIE:

trenches in red, like funny wriggly little worms, and the German trenches in blue, and a big gilt mirror, as big as you, that was rescued from a French château before the Germans had shot it all to pieces. And you'd think it was a fine dugout. Then Daddy would hang a brown English mask, like a box, in front, and a little blue French mask, like a big pocket-book, over his left shoulder, and put on his tin hat and strap on his revolver. And then you'd take off your little old straw hat and put on a little tin hat, so the bullets would bounce off your head, and put on two little masks, to use if the bad Germans shot a shell full of poison gas near us, and away we'd go to see the trenches. We 'd go past a lot more dugouts like Daddy's, and then down a long, beau

This is all about the trenches, and the dugouts, and the poor little towns that the trenches run through, and the No Man's Land between the American trenches and the bad German trenches, and the rats that run through the trenches, and the dugouts, and the poor little towns, and No Man's Land. And Daddy tried to write you all about it while the Marines were up in the trenches; but he could never find time up there to write this letter, because he had so much to do there that it was all he could do to find time to write to your pretty mother. And she always read them to you, so you know more about the trenches, anyway, than lots of big boys. So we'll just pretend you came over to France on a torpedo-boat, and then right up in an aeroplane to Daddy's dugout, at the end of a pretty path. And there you found Daddy in his dugout-a nice big dugout under ground, so you had to climb down twelve steps. And on top of the dugout was a roof of big logs, and, on top of them, a ton of white rocks to keep the enemy shells out! and on top of the rocks was a net, like a big fish-net, made of burlap, with lots of little bunches of tough grass tied on, so that an enemy aëroplane up in the sky would think it was just part of a green field and would n't drop bombs on Daddy's dugout or fly back and tell the artillery to shoot on it. And in one corner you would see a little stove, and, in the other, Daddy's bunk, and even funny wall-paper on the walls, and a big long table on one side, with all Daddy's pictures of you and Mother on it and maps of the trenches, with our

tiful path through the finest woods you ever saw; and all the birds would be singing; and you'd pass a little shed, and there would be three fat black-and-white puppy-dogs playing and rolling around in some little bushes, biting each other's ears and stubby little tails; and two big, fat, sleepy bunny rabbits watching them; and you'd look up at Daddy and laugh and think it was a funny war. And then, all along the path, you'd see dozens of telephone-wires running down in a deep ditch to the trenches, and lots of violets and buttercups and daisies. And pretty soon, in the woods, we'd come to some little trenches and rows of barbed wire, to use if the enemy could drive the Marines out of the real trenches-but you know they could n't. Then we'd come to a funny little railroad, and see some little flat cars pulled by two little mules carrying food down to a place called a dump, so the Marines could come up when it

was dark and get them to the trenches. So we'd leave the path and follow the little railroad off to the right. And then you'd see some big shell-holes in the ground. And pretty soon we 'd pass a deep ravine, and see a lot of Marines and French soldiers sitting around, smoking and laughing, in front of little dugouts, and sheds, like little barns, with shell-holes through the roof. And they were all there to run to the trenches to help the Marines if they were attacked and the enemy tried to sneak up through the ravine in the dark. So we 'd be getting near the trenches; and Daddy would stop and say, "Listen!" And you 'd listen and hear, away off in front, a low boom! as though it was Nanny beating a rug away off. And then you'd hear a queer, whistling sound getting near and nearer until it sounded like some giant up above us tearing a great long piece of silk in his hands. And Daddy would say: "That's all right; it went away over our heads. Now listen again." And you 'd listen and hear the biggest bang. And then another would come, and you would n't hear any bang; and Daddy would say: "That did n't go off. It's a dud." So we'd go on, and pretty soon come to a fine, big, white road, like the fine roads in Maryland. And we 'd turn to the left down the road and be going right straight to the trenches. And you 'd think it was the funniest road you ever saw, because you 'd know it was in France, and all you had to do was to follow the road and it would go to the edge of the beautiful woods, and on downhill past the trenches, and through a poor little town with a company of Marines, and on past a lot of barbed wire, and on through No Man's Land across the fields into a little town full of wicked German soldiers, and on through more towns, over bridges, and into German cities. But we 'd stop near the edge of the woods and step down into a trench; and at the edge of the woods would be some big screens of burlap and grass hung between poles; and over the trench, as it went downhill, would be mats of it overhead to hide it, and we'd come right out into what you'd think was a

play village. For there would be a row of little white stone houses built right into a little hill; and lots of Marines would say, "Why there 's our little sergeant who used to carry the colors at the Brooklyn Navy Yard when we marched off the parade ground!" And they'd show you all over and tell you it was battalion headquarters, when the major stayed in the trenches; and they 'd take you way down in some deep dugouts, where they go when the enemy is bombarding, and you'd knock your tin hat against some beams, until they lighted a candle. And you'd hear some

THIS IS A MARINE
THROWING A SHOE
AT A RAT

funny little squeaks, and a big rat would run out, and a Marine would throw a hobnailed shoe at it. And if Dan Daly, the top sergeant of the machine-gun company, was there, he 'd tell about the rat that was so big it could n't get in his dugout door; and they 'd show you how the rats eat right through their packs and the straps on them; and how they eat right into the boxes that have hard bread, and eat up the hard bread that every Marine has to carry to eat if there's a big battle and the mules can't bring up their chow for a day or two. Then you 'd come up into the light, and salute the major, and we'd go down a real trench a little ways, and go through a door in the side of it into a little dugout. And you'd see how it opened right in front, a long narrow opening. And Daddy would lift you up, and you'd look through a big telescope right across the battle-field; and miles and miles away, where the hills met the blue sky, you 'd see cities in Germany. And the major would point the telescope one place, and you 'd see big German barracks; and an

other place, and you 'd see a big factory and a lot of smoke, where the Germans were making shells; and you 'd see lots of towns nearer, with the big white road we were on running through them; and a big town near by, with a lake in front of it, and lots of forests and fields that the Germans took early in the war. Then the major would point the big telescope down, and closer by there 'd be a town with only one or two roofs, red like cherries, left on the houses, and most of the walls down and the streets full of heaps of stones and grass; and he 'd tell you there was a com

ASARAS

THIS IS THE GERMAN CAPTAIN'S FAMILY

pany of the enemy in it, and that the German captain, an old square-head, with spectacles, and a fat, red-nosed German wife and six square-head kids—all mean little imps at home, lived in a dugout under one of the red roofs. And you 'd wonder how soldiers could be living in a town like that, and yet you could n't see any. And while you were looking, the telephone would ring; and the major would. get a message that the artillery were going to shell the town. And you 'd hear a faint bark and hear the shell whistle; and you 'd hear a bang and see a big column of dirt and stones shoot up like a fountain, right in the middle of the town; and it would be all red where the shell had blown a lot of bricks into red dust. And then they 'd come fast, and you 'd see a big hole with the sun shining through the red roof. And the major would laugh and say, "Hit 'em again!" and five nice "75" shells would burst right in the same place. And pretty soon the telephone would ring again, and they 'd point the telescope to a little. bunch of dots where a German machinegun was; and then you 'd see little columns of black dirt and stone shoot up -four of them; and when you'd look again, you'd see a big hole where the ma

chine-gun had been. And then you'd let a Marine take the telescope to watch the enemy; and you would look through the long narrow slit in front of the dugout and look away north to Verdun and away south to a big hill called Les Eparges, a brown hill with hardly any trees on it and all cut up with trenches and shell-holes, where both the Frenchers and the Germans had fought on it; and you'd count as many as eleven big German balloons up in the air, like yellow sausages; because, you see, we would be up on a hill and could watch them with telescopes, but they had to get up in balloons to watch us. And maybe you'd see a French aeroplane shooting machine-gun bullets into one of the balloons, and a German would jump out in a parachute and the balloon would get on fire and go tumbling and twisting down like a yellow wash-rag. And then you'd peek down to see what No Man's Land was like; and you 'd be as much surprised as if Santa Claus was out there in his sleigh. Because you 'd see nice-looking meadows and fruit orchards and white. roads and little lakes and brooks. But there would n't be any fruit on the trees, just wild orchards; and you 'd see long black rows on both sides, and running out into No Man's Land, that were roads of barbed wire seven rows deep. And No Man's Land does n't belong to any nation in the world, and nobody lives in it, and there's nobody in it except at night, when the patrols steal out to go across and cut the barbed wire and go into the German trenches to carry off prisonAnd if you could stay till dark, you 'd see the flash of German cannons away off, and then you 'd see rockets burst away up in the sky and then white stars come floating down to make No Man's Land as bright as day. And some Marine would hear the enemy cutting our barbed wire; and he'd shoot a rocket up, and you 'd hear the machine-guns go "Put! Put! Put!" and the rifles go "Crack! Crack! Crack!" And if the Germans had a company out there, the major would shoot up a rocket that would break into red stars, and the artillery would see it, and

ers.

all the 75s and the big guns would fire, and all the German guns; and you'd see little streaks of fire from the trenches. And in about three quarters of an hour the Germans would be all licked, and they 'd shoot up a red-and-green rocket and start home as soon as their cannons stopped; and they 'd carry off their dead and wounded, and all would be dark and quiet. And in the morning the Marines would find some dead Germans hanging in the wires, and hundreds of sharp knives and bombs. But the Germans never could get into the Marines' trenches. But you could n't stay till dark; so Daddy would take your hand, and you 'd salute the major, and we 'd get into a deep trench and start downhill to a little town with a pretty name. And the trench would twist and turn like a snake, and we 'd walk on a little board-walk of slats, that they call duck-boards (but, Daddy does n't know why, because he never saw any ducks there or even any nice little chickens), and the trench would have sign-boards; and some places there would n't be any duck-boards, but just mud. And we 'd turn a sharp

THIS IS YOU AND DADDY

IN THE MUD

corner, and there 'd be a square place cut out, with sand-bags in front, and a Marine sentry, with his rifle resting on the sand-bags and his cartridges in a neat little row, watching the enemy. And near by would be a dugout and other Marines sleeping, because at night more of them. have to watch and be ready to fight. And lots of places there 'd be wire, the same kind they keep chickens shut in with, up against the walls of the trench to keep the dirt from falling in. And overhead there 'd be branches of trees, or wire netting with burlap, to fool the Germans up

in the balloons. And pretty soon we 'd come to more trenches that crossed ours, but we'd follow the French signs and come out into the poor little French town. And the captain of Marines would show us all around, just as proud of his poor little town as if it were Paris. And the houses would be full of holes where the German shells had hit them, and grass would be growing in the streets. And there would be the road, with big shellholes in it, and rocks, and lots of barbed wire fixed on long steel fences that the Marines would run across the street if the Germans came in. And you'd see Marines smoking and reading under the poor little trees or with their backs to the walls, and shaving, and cleaning the mud off their shoes. And lots would be sleeping, down in dugouts like cellars under the houses. And in the streets there 'd be a lot of rusty old German shells that had n't exploded. And the captain would take us into a big dugout under a big house, with the walls all covered over with colored pictures of pretty French ladies, and tell us all about how the big shells come into town and everybody laughs and shouts and races each other into the dugouts until the shells stop. And there are four other poor little towns like it. The littlest one is half a mile out beyond the trenches; and in a battle most of the fighting would be in the little towns. And then you 'd get tired and awful homesick for your pretty little Mother, just as Daddy does; and your little lip would tremble, and the captain would say, "Poor little fellow!" and kiss you good-by. And a big Marine would take you pickaback, and away we 'd go up the hill to your aeroplane; and all the officers would come out and fill a bag full of German buttons and bullets and belt-buckles. And you 'd salute Colonel Catlin, and put your little arms awful tight around Daddy's neck and kiss him. good-by and sail away.

With lots and heaps of love to you and pretty Mother, and be just as good to her as Uncle Sam is to all the Marines who are far away fighting in France.

YOUR DADDY PAT.