These laid the world away; poured out the red Sweet wine of youth; gave up the years to be Of work and joy ... And those who would have been, Their sons, they gave, their immortality. Rupert Brooke. In deciding to publish some of the letters written by the late Lieutenant H. P. M. Jones during his twenty-seven months' service with the British Army, accompanying them with a memoir, I was actuated by a desire, first, to enshrine the memory of a singularly noble and attractive personality; secondly

Paul Jones as an Infant. Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting: The Soul that rises with us, our life's Star Hath had elsewhere its setting, And cometh from afar; Not in entire forgetfulness, And not in utter nakedness. But trailing clouds of glory do we come From God, Who is our home. Wordsworth: "Intimations of Immortality." Henry Paul Mainwaring Jones, born in London on May 18, 1896, was the first child of Henry and Emily Margaret Jones. His grandfather, the late Thomas Mainwaring, was in

Paul as a Subaltern in the A.S.C. (From a Photograph by his Brother) From April 15, 1915, to July 26 in the same year Second Lieutenant H. P. M. Jones was employed at a home port which was, and is, one of the principal centres of supply for the British Expeditionary Force. He was glad of the opportunity of obtaining an insight into the methods of supplying the British Army in the field, and was impressed with the thoroughness, efficiency, and businesslike promptitude of the Army Service Corps. H

The day's high work is over and done, And these no more will need the sun: Blow, you bugles of England, blow! ****** That her Name like a sun among stars might glow Till the dusk of time with honour and worth: That, stung by the lust and the pain of battle, The One Race ever might starkly spread And the One Flag eagle it overhead! In a rapture of wrath and faith and pride, Thus they felt it and thus they died. ****** Blow, you bugles of England, blow! W. E. Henley: "The Last Post." The circumsta