the Allied?--triumphs of the war.

Farther on the road a company from a famous regiment, picked men all of
them, comes swinging along, fresh from their baths!--life and force in
every movement--young Harrys with their beavers on. Then, a house where
men have their gas-helmets tested--a very strict and necessary business;
and another, where an ex-Balliol tutor and Army Chaplain keeps open doors
for the soldier in his hours of rest or amusement. But we go in search of
a safe road to a neighbouring village, where some fresh passes have to be
got. Each foot now of the way is crowded with the incidents and
appurtenances of war, and war close at hand. An Australian transport base
is pointed out, with a wholly Australian staff. "Some of the men," says
our guide, "are millionaires." Close by is an aeroplane descending
unexpectedly in a field, and a crowd of men rushing to help; and we turn
away relieved to see the two aviators walking off unhurt. Meanwhile, I
notice a regular game of football going on at a distance, and some
carefully written names of bypaths--"Hyde Park Corner," "Piccadilly,"
"Queen Mary's Road," and the like. The animation, the life of the scene
are indescribable.

At the next village the road was crowded both with natives and soldiers to
see the German prisoners brought in. Alack! we did not see them.
Ambulances were passing and re-passing, the slightly wounded men in cars
open at the back, the more serious cases in closed cars, and everywhere
the same _va et vient_ of lorries and wagons, of staff-cars and
motor-cyclists. It was not right for us to add to the congestion in the
road. Moreover, the hours were drawing on, and the great sight was still
to come. But to have watched those prisoners come in would have somehow
rounded off the day!