My surmise was right, for before I got very far some British cruisers and destroyers were on the spot, and the destroyers took up the chase.  I kept under water most of the way, but managed to get off a wireless to the German fleet that I was heading homeward and being pursued.  I hoped to entice the enemy, by allowing them now and then a glimpse of me, into the zone in which they might be exposed to capture or destruction by German warships, but, although their destroyers saw me plainly at dusk on the 22d and made a final effort to stop me, they abandoned the attempt, as it was taking them too far from safety and needlessly exposing them to attack from our fleet and submarines.

How much they feared our submarines and how wide was the agitation caused by good little U-9 is shown by the English reports that a whole flotilla of German submarines had attacked the cruisers and that this flotilla had approached under cover of the flag of Holland.

These reports were absolutely untrue.  U-9 was the only submarine on deck, and she flew the flag she still flies—­the German naval ensign—­which I hope to keep forever as a glorious memento and as an inspiration for devotion to the Fatherland.

I reached the home port on the afternoon of the 23d, and on the 24th went to Wilhelmshaven, to find that news of my effort had become public.  My wife, dry eyed when I went away, met me with tears.  Then I learned that my little vessel and her brave crew had won the plaudit of the Kaiser, who conferred upon each of my co-workers the Iron Cross of the second class and upon me the Iron Cross of the first and second classes.

[Weddigen is the hero of the hour in Germany.  He also wears a medal for life-saving.  Counting himself, Weddigen had twenty-six men.  The limit of time that his ship is capable of staying below the surface is about six hours.]

THE SOLILOQUY OF AN OLD SOLDIER.

By O.C.A.  CHILD.

You need not watch for silver in your hair,
  Or try to smooth the wrinkles from your eyes,
Or wonder if you’re getting quite too spare,
  Or if your mount can bear a man your size.

You’ll never come to shirk the fastest flight,
  To query if she really cares to dance,
To find your eye less keen upon the sight,
  Or lose your tennis wrist or golfing stance.

For you the music ceased on highest note—­
  Your charge had won, you’d scattered them like sand,
And then a little whisper in your throat,
  And you asleep, your cheek upon your hand.

Thrice happy fate, you met it in full cry,
  Young, eager, loved, your glitt’ring world all joy—­
You ebbed not out, you died when tide was high,
  An old campaigner envies you, my boy!

The War at Home

How It Affects the Countries Whose Men Are At the Front.

The Effects of War in Four Countries