Harper's New Monthly Magazine Volume 139 June to November 1919 . hese depend upon the needs of the com-munity, which may be entirely the people of each community cando their rebuilding—and in their ownway. Ossa ista resurgent? Perhaps, after all,we must say with the priest, Domine, tuscis. For the answer depends upon anunknown factor, the will of the peopleconcerned. The illustration of thecathedral at Soissons, however, is sig-nificant. Our part in the reconstructionof northern France is to make the neces-sary sacrifices, as governments and in-dividuals, to show our solidarity wi
Harper's New Monthly Magazine Volume 139 June to November 1919 . hese depend upon the needs of the com-munity, which may be entirely the people of each community cando their rebuilding—and in their ownway. Ossa ista resurgent? Perhaps, after all,we must say with the priest, Domine, tuscis. For the answer depends upon anunknown factor, the will of the peopleconcerned. The illustration of thecathedral at Soissons, however, is sig-nificant. Our part in the reconstructionof northern France is to make the neces-sary sacrifices, as governments and in-dividuals, to show our solidarity withthose who have suffered for us. We canmake possible reconstruction. We cansmooth the path for and strengthenthose who are called upon to performone of the most formidable tasks of his-tory. At the least, we can refrain fromdiscouraging them by indifference andinclination to profit by their , when all is said and done, the re-construction of northern France dependsupon the people of northern France. Mr. Blue, Kidnapper BY MURIEL HOWARD STEELE. >E was an Englishman,and, what was more, hehad always lived inEngland. His days hespent on the other sideof a counter in Jaynessjewelry-shop, his eve-nings in the red-carpeted and red-uphol-stered parlor of his mothers house. Hewas there, at least, to all appear-ances, his small, roundish body fittingsnugly into the small, roundish red chair,and his round face with its unfinishedfeatures and thick spectacles resting onone hand while the other upheld anopen book. But in the inner and truer sense hewas not there, and he was not he; no,certainly he was not Mr. William Blueof Jayness. In those hours he faredfar, swaggering athwart the East whichis east of Suez, or careening throughthe West of Westward, Ho! armed, as arule, to the teeth, and generally finishedofF with scented notes, bits of ribbon,and wilted flowers. . Often* duringhis reading he was compelled to removehis spectacles, dimmed by the mists ofemotion, and cle
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