patriot in New England was trying to get across. I didn't get the
job, but filed my application and was lucky enough to be signed on
for a sailing on February 22 on the steam-ship _Cambrian_, bound
for London.

[Illustration: REDUCED FACSIMILE OF DISCHARGE CERTIFICATE OF
CHARACTER.]

We spent the morning of Washington's Birthday loading the horses.
These government animals were selected stock and full of ginger.
They seemed to know that they were going to France and resented it
keenly. Those in my care seemed to regard my attentions as a
personal affront.

We had a strenuous forenoon getting the horses aboard, and sailed
at noon. After we had herded in the livestock, some of the officers
herded up the herders. I drew a pink slip with two numbers on it,
one showing the compartment where I was supposed to sleep, the
other indicating my bunk.

That compartment certainly was a glory-hole. Most of the men had
been drunk the night before, and the place had the rich, balmy
fragrance of a water-front saloon. Incidentally there was a good
deal of unauthorized and undomesticated livestock. I made a limited
acquaintance with that pretty, playful little creature, the
"cootie," who was to become so familiar in the trenches later on.
He wasn't called a cootie aboard ship, but he was the same bird.

Perhaps the less said about that trip across the better. It lasted
twenty-one days. We fed the animals three times a day and cleaned