almost entirely of the letters _j, z_, and _v_. So our resourceful
Ordnance Department has issued maps--admirable maps--upon which the
outstanding features of the landscape are marked in plain figures.
But instead of printing the original place-names, they put "Moated
Grange," or "Clapham Junction," or "Dead Dog Farm," which simplifies
matters beyond all possibility of error. (The system was once
responsible, though, for an unjust if unintentional aspersion upon
the character of a worthy man. The C.O. of a certain battalion had
occasion to complain to those above him of the remissness of one of
his chaplains. "He's a lazy beggar, sir," he said. "Over and over
again I have told him to come up and show himself in the front-line
trenches, but he never seems to be able to get past Leicester
Square!")

The naming of the trenches themselves has been left largely to local
enterprise. An observant person can tell, by a study of the numerous
name-boards, which of his countrymen have been occupying the line
during the past six months. "Grainger Street" and "Jesmond Dene" give
direct evidence of "Canny N'castle." "Sherwood Avenue" and "Notts
Forest" have a Midland flavour. Lastly, no great mental effort is
required to decide who labelled two communication trenches "The
Gorbals" and "Coocaddens" respectively!

Some names have obviously been bestowed by officers, as "Sackville
Street," "The Albany," and "Burlington Arcade" denote. "Pinch-Gut"
and "Crab-Crawl" speak for themselves. So does "Vermin Villa." Other
localities, again, have obviously been labelled by persons endowed
with a nice gift of irony. "Sanctuary Wood" is the last place on earth
where any one would dream of taking sanctuary; while "Lovers' Walk,"
which bounds it, is the scene of almost daily expositions of the