dishwater; thin steak fried hard as nails, boiled beans with fried
bacon laid on the beans--not pork and beans, but called pork and
beans--with the beans slithery and hard and underdone; lettuce,
cabbage, and onions soused in vinegar, white bread cut an inch
thick, soft and spongy, boiled potatoes that had stood in the water
after they were cooked done, and then bread pudding, made by pouring
water on bread, sticking in some raisins, stirring in an egg, and
serving a floury syrup over it for sauce! There was enough, of course,
to keep soul and body together. But the cooking had spoiled a lot
of mighty good food. And Henry liked it! There were two preachers
with us, and they bragged about the "good old American cooking!"
And when they heard me roar they said, "He is insulting the
star-spangled banner," and Henry threatened to take my pajamas out
of his black valise!

[Illustration: And he sat cross legged]

After passing through many villages crowded with our troops we came
to the headquarters of the American Expeditionary forces. We found
General Pershing in a long brick building--two or three stories
high, facing a wide white parade ground. The place had been used
evidently as a barracks for French soldiers in peace times, and
was fitted to the uses of our army. We met a member of his staff,
a sort of outer guard, and with scarcely a preliminary halt were
taken to the general. He seems easy of access, which is a sign
that he plays no favourites and has no court. Anyone with business
can see him. He met us in a plain bare room with a square new
American-looking desk in the midst of it. He sat behind the desk,
cordial enough but with the air of one who will be pleased to have
business start, and politenesses stop. So we plunged straight to