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PREFACE
But should I lift in the smallest degree, for those who wait behind, the curtain that shrouds “somewhere in France,” and show them the tears and the laughter, the humour and the pathos that go to form the atmosphere over yonder, I shall be well satisfied.
I am no artist in words, but—“Each in his separate star shall paint the thing as he sees it for the God of things as they are.”
