| PAGE | |
| The Road | 1 |
| The Sacred Work | 4 |
| Balance Sheet of the Soldier-Workman | 14 |
| The Children's Jewel Fund | 46 |
| France, 1916–1917—An Impression | 53 |
| Englishman and Russian | 82 |
| American and Briton | 88 |
| Anglo-American Drama and Its Future | 112 |
| Speculations | 140 |
| The Land, 1917 | 169 |
| The Land, 1918 | 205 |
| Grotesques | 245 |
The road stretched in a pale, straight streak,narrowing to a mere thread at the limit of vision—theonly living thing in the wild darkness. Allwas very still. It had been raining; the wetheather and the pines gave forth scent, and littlegusty shivers shook the dripping birch trees. Inthe pools of sky, between broken clouds, a fewstars shone, and half of a thin moon was seenfrom time to time, like the fragment of a silverhorn held up there in an invisible hand, waitingto be blown.
Hard to say when I first became aware thatthere was movement on the road, little specks ofdarkness on it far away, till its end was blackenedout of sight, and it seemed to shorten towardsme. Whatever was coming darkened it as aninvading army of ants will dark