counter to be indicated by the thumb, a deadlock would appear to be
inevitable. Our Master Thomas, however, never did realise what a
deadlock is; he goes on till he gets what he wants. So you see them in
pairs, taking up a stolid position at the counter, obstinately stating
and re-stating their demands in a composite language of which the
foreign element is almost negligible, until the merchant or his wife
gives in and produces the article required. I know one simple soldier
who managed to reconcile himself to the confirmed habit amongst the
French people of addressing each other in the French language, but
could never understand their addressing horses and dogs in such an
unintelligible tongue. "If you want a dog to come 'ere, why not say
'Come 'ere!' and 'ave done with it?" Men may learn strange lingoes to
humour their fellow-men, but how can any dog be expected to understand
"_Viens ici_"?

Three years and some odd months have not changed this point of view;
and now for Thomas to find himself in Italy is only to discover
another lot of unfortunate people who cannot understand or make
themselves understood. A little thing like that, however, is not going
to be allowed to stand between friends; already new words and phrases
are being coined, mutually acceptable to both parties.

The first sign I saw of our arrival in this country was a derelict
mess-tin on a country station platform; at the next station I saw
a derelict rifle; at the next a whole derelict kit, and lastly a
complete-in-all-parts derelict soldier. He was surrounded by a small
crowd of native men, women and children, anxious to show their
appreciation of his nation by assisting himself. They were doing their
utmost to ascertain his needs; they were trying him with slices of
bread, a _fiasco_ of chianti, words of intense admiration, flowers. It