we got out and stretched our legs at every opportunity.

We travelled _viâ_ Rouen and Amiens to Landrecies. The Signal Company
had a train to itself. Gradually we woke up to find ourselves travelling
through extraordinarily pretty country and cheering crowds. At each
level-crossing the curé was there to bless us. If we did not stop the
people threw in fruit, which we vainly endeavoured to catch. A halt, and
they were round us, beseeching us for souvenirs, loading us with fruit,
and making us feel that it was a fine thing to fight in a friendly
country.

At Rouen we drew up at a siding, and sent porters scurrying for bread
and butter and beer, while we loaded up from women who came down to the
train with all sorts of delicious little cakes and sweets. We stopped,
and then rumbled slowly towards Amiens. At St Roche we first saw
wounded, and heard, I do not know with what truth, that four aviators
had been killed, and that our General, Grierson, had died of heart
failure. At Ham they measured me against a lamp-post, and ceremoniously
marked the place. The next time I passed through Ham I had no time to
look for the mark! It began to grow dark, and the trees standing out
against the sunset reminded me of our two lines of trees at home. We
went slowly over bridges, and looked fearfully from our windows for
bursting shells. Soon we fell asleep, and were wakened about midnight by
shouted orders. We had arrived at Landrecies, near enough the Frontier
to excite us.

I wonder if you realise at home what the Frontier meant to us at first?
We conceived it as a thing guarded everywhere by intermittent patrols of
men staring carefully towards Germany and Belgium in the darkness, a
thing to be defended at all costs, at all times, to be crossed with