comes from riveting one's gaze steadfastly on ideals and not permitting it to wander to the muddy road.

Our guns were taken to the mobile machine shop for repairs, a couple of "Chinese" caissons (as we called our cumbersome American caissons) arrived, and with little heart, we prepared to leave. Our battery commander, Captain Huntington, received or­ ders to report immediately in the capacity of an instructor to the training camp at Coetquidan. The command then fell upon Lieutenant Clarke. Lieutenant MacNamee, our other first Lieutenant, was soon afterwards taken away to become acting Battalion commander.

We were drenched before we started; we were off we knew not whither. We splashed and worried along the nasty road, the horses hardly able to drag along their own existence. Whenever an obstacle in the road presented itself—a hill to climb or an exceptionally bad stretch to cover—the horses tugged feebly at the traces as if on their last legs. Footsore men staggered under the cutting straps of heavy packs and had too little spirit to push very enthusiastically on ditched carriages. Mounted men fared no better: frozen in their seats, saddle weary, fearing every minute lest the horse's back break beneath them under the combined weight of man and heavy marching equipment. Some poor unfortunate in the rear of the column had literally to drag along a half dozen mangy, moth-eaten, drowned skeletons of horses that seemed to have no strength except a stolid, unconscious determination to pull backwards for the most part, but in general in every direction except the one

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