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402

response a happy beginning.

During the half hour I awaiting Putnam, I was observing a scene of war that was stupendous and fascinating. [[strikethrough]] ^[[in the early twilight]] [[/strikethrough]] All over the country west of the Moselle below Pont-à-Mousson was a continuous series of vivid instantaneous flashes in the twilight of dawn, and just over the lines in the wood, was a sequence of brilliant flares ^[[accompanied by a]] [[strikethrough]] [[?]] [[/strikethrough]] gradually dying glow. The bursting shells reminded me of  the pouring of a molten mass of steel -- flashing white during the emptying of the [[strikethrough]] container [[/strikethrough]] ^[[crucible]] and [[strikethrough]] layer[[/strikethrough]] lapsing into the red, and ^[[then the]] fading ruddiness that disappeared forthwith. All over were these suddenly incandescent war [[bakes???]] sent forth on their short-lived mission. A spectacle for a Nero to witness.

I wasn't Nero, however, and it wasn't altogether to my enjoyment in the hours that