* * * * *

In due course we removed our effects from the tottering and rat-ridden
dug-outs in which we had taken sanctuary during the shelling, and
prepared to settle down for the winter in our new quarters.

"We might be _very_ much worse off!" we observed the first evening,
listening to the comfortably muffled sounds of shells overhead.

And we were right. Three days later we received an intimation from the
Practical Joke Department that we were to evacuate our present sector
of trenches (including Hush Hall) forthwith, and occupy another part
of the line.

In all Sports, Winter and Summer, the supremacy of the Practical Joke
Department is unchallenged.


II

Meanwhile, up in the trenches, the combatants are beguiling the time
in their several ways.

Let us take the reserve line first--the lair of Battalion Headquarters
and its appurtenances. Much of our time here, as elsewhere, is
occupied in unostentatious retirement to our dug-outs, to avoid the
effects of a bombardment. But a good amount--an increasing amount--of
it is devoted to the contemplation of our own shells bursting over the
Boche trenches. Gone are the days during which we used to sit close