me, and asked me questions till the nurse made him stop.  I was never so glad about anything as I was about the happiness it evidently gave him to meet me and hear from home.  I promised to come next day if we did not sail.  Then he showed what I must call despair.  He must have been passionately eager to get to France.  The nurse dragged me out.  Jim called weakly after me:  “Good-by, Kurt.  Stick some Germans for me!” I’ll never forget his tone nor his look....  Lenore, he doesn’t expect to get over to France.

I questioned the nurse, and she shook her head doubtfully.  She looked sad.  She said Jim had been the lion of his regiment.  I questioned a doctor, and he was annoyed.  He put me off with a sharp statement that Jim was not in danger.  But I think he is.  I hope and pray he recovers.

    Thursday.

We sailed yesterday.  It was a wonderful experience, leaving Hoboken.  Our transport and the dock looked as if they had a huge swarm of yellow bees hanging over everything.  The bees were soldiers.  The most profound emotion I ever had—­except the one when you told me you loved me—­came over me as the big boat swung free of the dock—­of the good old U.S., of home.  I wanted to jump off and swim through the eddying green water to the piles and hide in them till the boat had gone.  As we backed out, pulled up tugs, and got started down the river, my thrills increased, until we passed the Statue of Liberty—­and then I couldn’t tell how I felt.  One thing, I could not see very well....  I gazed beyond the colossal statue that France gave to the U.S.—­’way across the water and the ships and the docks toward the West that I was leaving.  Feeling like mine then only comes once to a man in his life.  First I seemed to see all the vast space, the farms, valleys, woods, deserts, rivers, and mountains between me and my golden wheat-hills.  Then I saw my home, and it was as if I had a magnificent photograph before my very eyes.  A sudden rush of tears blinded me.  Such a storm of sweetness, regret, memory!  Then at last you—­you as you stood before me last, the very loveliest girl in all the world.  My heart almost burst, and in the wild, sick pain of the moment I had a strange, comforting flash of thought that a man who could leave you must be impelled by something great in store for him.  I feel that.  I told you once.  To laugh at death!  That is what I shall do.  But perhaps that is not the great experience which will come to me.

I saw the sun set in the sea, ’way back toward the western horizon, where the thin, dark line that was land disappeared in the red glow.  The wind blows hard.  The water is rough, dark gray, and cold.  I like the taste of the spray.  Our boat rolls heavily and many boys are already sick.  I do not imagine the motion will affect me.  It is stuffy below-deck.  I’ll spend what time I can above, where I can see and feel.  It was dark just now when I came below.