Jezebel was tittuping along behind, thinking only of her next feed. I
cannot get her to take any interest in these thrilling spots. Sometimes
a soldier or two would emerge from a cellar, the entrance to which would
be piled up with sand-bags. And once or twice bang! bang! goes a gun
quite close by.

Well, so we go through the next deserted and wrecked village, again out
of sight of the Boche, because of the ruins and a few trees. Then into a
very famous town indeed, and across a river three times by three
different bridges--not the old bridges, which are broken down, but
sapper-built bridges. Here is a party going into the trenches just on
the far side of the town. They look distinctly cheery, and are all of
the same ripe brown. Thence right-handed again and gradually back to
civilization, or, rather, to life first and civilization some way
behind. Eventually people strolling about and shops. I bought a pair of
those jolly French-tartan stockings for little Bun. With a grey dress
they will look most charming, I think.

[Sidenote: ARMENTIERES]

Again masses of soldiers with their field-kitchens in muddy fields from
which all traces of grass have been stamped long ago. And the
everlasting mule. There are mules everywhere out here.

Such attractive cottages, white with green shutters, and sometimes
little Dutch gardens. Many windmills, several pigeons always fluttering
round each. A lorry in a ditch. A roadside canteen, with perhaps an
A.S.C. camp near by. Fields and fields of corn and every other crop
under the sun. I long to sketch, but feel slightly nervous of so doing
so far from camp. I don't want to be arrested as a spy. We are