right quality in them to express the feelings aroused in our men by
their reception, or the exquisite gratitude felt by the Franco-Belgian
people. They welcomed the British troops as their deliverers.

"The first person to meet us in France," writes a British officer, "was
the pilot, and the first intimation of his presence was a huge voice in
the darkness, which roared out 'A bas Guillaume. Eep, eep, 'ooray!'" As
transport after transport sailed into Boulogne, and regiment after
regiment landed, the population went into ecstasies of delight. Through
the narrow streets of the old town the soldiers marched, singing,
whistling, and cheering, with a wave of their caps to the women and a
kiss wafted to the children (but not only to the children!) on the
route. As they swept along, their happy faces and gallant bearing struck
deep into the emotions of the spectators. "What brave fellows, to go
into battle laughing!" exclaimed one old woman, whose own sons had been
called to the army of the Republic.

It was strange to hear the pipes of the Highlanders skirl shrilly
through old Boulogne, and to catch the sound of English voices in the
clarion notes of the "Marseillaise," but, strangest of all to French
ears, to listen to that new battle-cry, "Are we down-hearted?" followed
by the unanswerable "No--o--o!" of every regiment. And then the lilt of
that new marching song to which Tommy Atkins has given immortality:--

"IT'S A LONG, LONG WAY TO TIPPERARY"[B]

Up to mighty London came an Irishman one day;
As the streets are paved with gold, sure ev'ry one was gay,
Singing songs of Piccadilly, Strand and Leicester Square,
Till Paddy got excited, then he shouted to them there: