CHRISTMAS SOUVENIR

Dominion, Volume 11, Issue 87, 5 January 1918, Page 3

CHRISTMAS SOUVENIR

FOR PETIT MARIUS ■ (By Patrick Mac Gill, author of : "The Groat Push," etc.) He was all alone in the attic, standing in an attitude of attention, his toes out an angle of do degrees, his legs braced up and head and eyes looking much mora than. his own height. Ho had to look up to sco tho bayonet which was fixed to tho rifle that leant against tho wall. He was a very small man, too small for khaki and the appointments of a soldier.

He wore a khaki tunic which was much too long; it hid his baggy trousers, and its sleeves fell over his outstretched fingers. Tho puttees which ho wore rolled down from his calves and clustered in several loops round his sabots. He wore his khaki cap, back to front, which was very handy, for in that way the visor did not fall over his eyes and blot the whole world from his sight. And his hair fell down in clusters over his neck and stuck out in wisps round his cars. In short, he was improperly dressed, a most disreputable soldier, utterly unfitted for a parade ground, and hardly passable as a soldier in the back area whero a certain laxity in dress was pardonable. But ho never got into trouble for a shortcoming like this. Privates raised their hands to their caps when they met him, a sergeant, a most strict disciplinarian, too, once gavo his squad the order: "Eyes right," to this little man in khaki. Heport had it that a general on his way through tho village or L saluted tho man in passing. The name of the little soldier was Marius, his ago was seven, and his country was France. His mother lived in the village, his father had been killed at tho front. Tho British soldiers loved him, they liked to bs billeted in his mother's house, and they always gave him presents and delicacios from the latest parcels from homo. Little Marius was a sturdy column in tile structure of the Entente.

Now that the soldiers were outside, most of them in a neighbouring cafe, having a final drink before leaving for the trenches, Marius was taking stock of the attic-billet, bis mind steeped in reflection. Everything there attracted him, the rifles and bayonets, 4 he entrenching tools, and the ammunition pouches. If he were a big man, he could carry all these and swing up the road at night, and come back singing at dawn. Would ho ever become big like those men, those English soldiers? Ho often thought the problem out and once ho asked his mother about it. But her answer did.not please liim. Sho simply cried and hugged him to her breast, and Marius did not hko tins, It was not becoming a man,x a man in i khaki whom the soldiers saluted, to be cuddled like that. He was a child horn to war. War had raged around, his head sinco the beginning of things, but the world in which he lived was a very interesting one. Ho had seen his father go away with others, marching off with his riflo over his shoulder. But that was such a long time ago, and ho had almost forgotten it. . Then one day and he remembered this twkllf, a letter came to his mother and when she Toad it she cried for a long while and kissed her son as if she were never going to stop. Then she went out into the street and shook her hand at the east, where tho Germans held . thenlines. Marius watched her do this, and it fascinated liim. When she came back he asked her to do it again. But she would not; instead she looked ■■ roat. him and kissed him. ' ''Your father is dead," she said, and I wept afresh. ... Soldiers often came to the village, French soldiers first, and after ha other men who were dressea diffeient I and spoke in a language which . lie could not understand.. They always came to the place singing at the tops of their voices. Marius liked these soldiers, and ho was gad when they billeted at his home. They used to give him sweets and cakes and badges and buttons. But one thing they did not give him, and it was for this that he longed most'of all. A .chapeau Bocho! Ho saw men come into the villas wearing them, and thoy never sung so heartily as they did then. They seemed to treasure these German helmets more than their lives.. They wore them when walking out in tho evening, and the girls of the pace crowded round the wearers. lUcn without them were passed by in silence, but the one who wore a chapeau Bocho was welcomed everywhere. I Marius came to know that certain things had to happen before these came to the village. On the night preceding the day on which the helmets came in any number the sky had to be lit by red flames and the big shells had to burst across .the. world. Another thing, too, and Marius did not like this at all, he had to sleep in the cellar along with his mother. Then on the next day, when the boys.came in singins:, they brought any amount of helmets with them. And a chapeau Boehe was all that the boy wanted now. If ho had one he would be happy aM proud, and maybe a little vain. But this was not to he wondered at, and a proud Marius, under a chapeau Bocho, strutting along the village street could be forgiven his moment of vanity. But now his desires seemed on a fair way towards being realised. Tnreo men were billeted in his home now, and these he loved andadmiretl with all the passion of his childish heart. One wtf in Irishman, another a Cockney, and the third a Devon man. Even now as he thought of them in the. attic there was a clatter on the stairs, and m three men entered the room. "Glory be," said tho first, a strong, -fed-haired fellow, with a big .'moustache, named Gahey. "And is it here that ye, are, Marius, me boy, all he YCrSGili • He stretched out his mighty arms, and tho youngster, knowing the glory of a heave to the roof, sank into them. Gahoy lifted the kicking and laughing boy, and raised him with one great sweep and almost touched the rafters with tho young rascal's cap. Then ho brought him down and swung him up again. Such a game! Such fun! Tho other two men, the ; first was nicknamed Spudhole, tho second Bowdy, felt in their pockets, and discovereclmany treasures—chocolate, buttons, and badges. Their supply of bad"es seemed to bo endless. These they handed to Marius, when his frolic with Gahey came to an end. Then the boy sat in a corner and munched his chocolate, and piled up his little store of souvenirs, while the thrco men got ready for tho journey, to the firing-line. When he had munched the chocolate and counted his souvenirs, ho spoke to tho men, and his talk was. of tho "chapeau Bocho." At ono period he did his best to imitate the villagers and call the German helmet "casque a point Boche," but it was easier to speak as the Tommies spoke, and the Tommy's French was becoming popular in the village The three men understood, and they promised to get the boy a helmet, v Christmas was coming. I" three days it would bo here, "and on that day Marius would have a German helmet as a Christmas box. All he had to do was to place his sabot at tho fireside on Christmas Eve, and in the morning ho would find it covered with a Gorman helmet. The men went away to the trenches an hour later, and on tho way up they spoke about the Christmas bos which thoy had promised to Marius. If they got one, bow were they to place it on the boy's sabot? "It's easy enough to get one,"- said Gahey, .who had a

habit of crawling over to tho Gorman trenches at night when bored with .jus own, killing a few Huns and picking up a number of souvenirs. "All ye vo to do is to"—ho touched his bombs significantly—"but once ye got a helmet, how are ve to givo.it to him But tho fates were kind to the men in more ways than one. They help' cd'in a raid on Christmas Evo and captured several helmets, as well as the men who wore them. The men had to bo sent down under escort to Btigado Headquarters, and Spudholo was one of the escort. Headquarters was near .the village of L , and when tho escort was dismissed, Sptidhole, a German helmet on his head, disappeared.

Marius was asleep when a Tap came to his mother's door. The woman rose and opened it. A White face lookcd in, and a hand shoved some object towards her. "For Petit Marius," said the visitor in a whisper. "Chapeau Boche for sabot of Petit Marius." Tho German helmet was shoved into the woman's hand. As sho caught it the man disappeared. Nothing could be heard but the- ammunition boots clattering along the cobbled stroet. The mother placed the helmet on tho sabot which stood by the fire, and went back to her bed again. In the morning Marius awoke to find the Gorman helmet, the chapeau Boche which Hie British soldiers had sent to him as a Christmas box.