ruined by homosexualism. Such riddlesome "men without a country" suddenly appear, and enlist themselves in wearisome, dangerous services. Frequently they are well-educated, brave, unable to "hide the gentleman" in them. Their lips are sealed to explanation of why they have expatriated themselves. Such books as Georges d'Esparbès studies of the Franco-Algerian service touch on this aspect. Many such volunteers gladly fling away not only names and social grades but their lonely lives, without a word to anyone. The sands of the desert or the grass of a jungle cover the bones of many social cidevants who have danced in Court balls in London or Wien, or who have headed the hunt across the Campagna on a Spring day, in the pride of fashion, wealth and blue-blood.
A sanguinary little drama, based on uranism in the ranks was played in a Galizian barracks one night, a few years ago. A young infantry soldier had during many months maintained homosexual intercourse with another recruit. The friend took a fancy to another soldier, and avoided his former comrade. The latter discovered the situation. A fierce quarrel ensued, Finally the deserted man threatened to kill the deserter and anybody else concerned. In the middle of the night came a shot, then a scene of terror. The soldier had crept stealthily out of bed, had taken his carbine, and had slipped over to where his "false" comrade lay. He fired at him in the dark. As the roomful of sleeping recruits was roused by the report, they leaped up, striking lights. The lad saw that he had missed his mark. He began firing right and left wildly—twice aimed at the rival soldier. In the flickering light he merely grazed him. The youth was secured by his half-naked comrades, and was shut up, out of his senses, till morning should come. During the few hours of that imprisonment he contrived nearly to make way with himself. He was tried for attempt at
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