The son mourned his father The father mourned his son
And they found themselves alive

LONDON, September 27. Mr. F. H. Rowe, an instructor in the British Air Force, had been mourning for eight years the death of his father, who had gone missing at the front in 1916. Mr. Rowe senior had been mourning for eight years the death of his son, Mr. F. H. Rowe, whose official death he had learned of in a hospital on the French front in 1916.
After the war, in mourning for the year after the other, Messrs. Rowe senior and son returned to England without finding a home there, Mrs. Rowe having died.

Yesterday, after eight years, alive and well, Mr. H. F. Rowe junior was in Southampton, in a bar, before embarking for Mesopotamia.

"My father's photograph!" he suddenly cried.
The bar had, in fact, the photograph of Mr. Rowe, a long-time customer.
Why do you have the photo of my father who died night years ago, at the front? inquired the aviator.
The barman made a gesture of astonishment:
Mr. Rowe did not die at the front. His son was killed in the war, eight years ago, but not him. He was here again yesterday.
But his son is me! exclaimed Mr. F. H. Rowe.

More and more astonished, the barman, believing it to be a simple coincidence. All the same, he had Mr. Rowe senior warned, who arrived in all haste.
Father and Son recognized each other and fell into each other's arms, certain this time that neither of them was dead,