of needles had run out and he had been reduced to using ordinary pins,
it was startling to hear Charlotte Greenwood's familiar voice caroling
"_So long, so long, Letty_," there on the borders of Bosnia, with a
picket of curious Jugoslavs, rifles across their knees, seated on the
rocky hillside, barely a stone's throw away. Still, come to think about
it, the war produced many contrasts quite as strange, as, for example,
when the New York Irish, the old 69th, crossed the Rhine with the
regimental band playing "_The Sidewalks of New York_."

We touched at Sebenico, which is forty knots down the coast from Zara,
in order to accept an invitation to lunch with Lieutenant-General
Montanari, who commands all the Italian troops in Dalmatia. Now before
we started down the Adriatic we had been warned that, because of
President Wilson's attitude on the Fiume question, the feeling against
Americans ran very high, and that from the Italians we must be prepared
for coldness, if not for actual insults. Well, this luncheon at Sebenico
was an example of the insults we received and the coldness with which we
were treated. Because our destroyer was late, half a hundred busy
officers delayed their midday meal for two hours in order not to sit
down without us. The table was decorated with American flags, and other
American flags had been hand-painted on the menus. And, as a final
affront, a destroyer had been sent across the Adriatic Sea to obtain
lobsters because the general had heard that my wife was particularly
fond of them. After that experience don't talk to me about Southern
hospitality. Though the Italians bitterly resent President Wilson's
interference in an affair which they consider peculiarly their own,
their resentment does not extend to the President's countrymen. Their
attitude is aptly illustrated by an incident which took place at the
mess of a famous regiment of Bersaglieri, when the picture of President
Wilson, which had hung on the wall of the mess-hall, opposite that of