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[Page 144]

(2)
draw nearer to the front where it is war.
And though the senses are as it were held in the spell of passive beauty through which we pass; the mind begins to speculate as to what may be up yonder at the charred and raffed end of so fair a scroll.
So with a few of us there are two endless pictures which over-lap and pass and change. One vividly real of its terrible fancies; the other almost as unsubstantial as the fabric of a dream with the intense beauty of its reality and its peace.
In a little while wearied consciousness is wrapped away from the hurts and indignities of a muddy world by the blessed miracle of sleep.
And in another little while a world of oblivion passes, leaving behind it the sweetness of a new born strength, which is another miracle. and one of which the [indecipherable] must marvel ever
Now we are back in the wake of war. At the very spot where nearly twelve months ago it was the very place of war.

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