I told him I had seen the lights and had shared
a little of the excitement.
"I was in barracks at ” he chatted. "I don't know how many of the things there were. One of them sailed directly over the barracks square. We were crowded in looking up. What a place for a bomb!
This fellow dropped a number in some empty fields as usual. You could see their fuses twisting down. Then he showed a red light on his tail—some kind of a signal, I fancy, and swung towards the channel. I think our air guns were spoiling his evening. At least the shrapnel was bursting all about.
Last we saw of him. He must have felt an awful fool, but they ought to be getting accustomed to that."
Before the moon had come again one had nearly forgotten with the Londoners to be apprehensive of the great dirigibles. In such indifference lies the tragedy of Count Zeppelin.
If, however, such considerations as Zeppelins and anxiety for relatives at the front have accented the virtues of democracy, its faults have also fattened through the war. The French and the English appreciated that during the first few months. It challenged me during my brief trip to Ireland during the Sinn Fein rebellion. I have no inten-
