all, I cannot with any personal knowledge speak of the camaraderie
of private basements; but I suppose that that exists and is another
of the War's byproducts. I take it that, in the event of a sudden
alarm, no householder with a cellar would be so inhuman as to
refuse admittance to a stranger, and already probably a myriad
new friendships and not a few engagements have resulted. Our own
camaraderie is admirable. The federation of the barrage breaks down
every obstacle; while a piece of shrapnel that one can display is more
valuable than any letter of introduction, no matter who wrote it.
Hence we all talk; and sometimes we sing too--choruses of the moment,
for the most part, in one of which the depth of our affection for our
maternal relative is measured and regulated by the floridity of the
roses growing on her porch.

And yet, when at last friendliness is upon the town, there are
people--and not only alien Hebrews either--who have been hurrying away
from London! When London has become more interesting than ever before
in its history there are people who leave it!

Personally I mean to cling to the old city as long as it will cling to
me; but even now across one's aching sight comes a "dream of pastime
premature" which shakes such resolves a little. Peter, for example,
has been having a disturbing effect on me. Only now and then, of
course--when I am not quite myself; when the two and thirty (what
remains of them) are not so firmly gritted as they should be; when
even London seems unworthy of devotion.

But these moods pass. You will admit, though, that Peter has his lure.
I read about him in the _Tavistock Gazette_, one of the few papers,
I fancy, which does not belong to Lord NORTHCLIFFE; and this is