We were in the front line, and one evening a Battersea lad and myself were ordered to go and fetch tea for the company from the cook-house, which was in Bluff Trench. It was about a mile from the line down a "beautiful" duckboard track. With the boiling tea strapped to our backs in big containers, both of which leaked at the nozzles, we started for the line. Then Jerry started sniping at us. There came from the line a sergeant, who shouted, "Why don't you lads duck?" "That's right," replied my chum. "D'yer fink we wants ter be scalded to death?"--_H. G. Harrap (23rd London Regiment), 25 Renfrew Road, S.E._ [Illustration: "D'yer fink we wants ter be scalded ter death?"] 2. LULL Rate of Exchange--on Berlin With four Cockney comrades of the Rifle Brigade, during 1915 at Fleurbaix, I was indulging in a _quiet_ game of nap in the front line. One man dropped out, "broke to the wide." Being an enthusiastic card player, he offered various articles for sale, but could find no buyers. At last he offered to _find_ a Jerry prisoner and sell him for a franc. He was absent for some time, but eventually turned up with his hostage, and, the agreement being duly honoured, he recommenced his game with his fresh capital. All the players came through alive, their names being J. Cullison, F. Bones, A. White, W. Deer (the first-named playing leading part), and myself.--_F. J. Chapman (late 11th Batt. Rifle Brigade), 110 Beckton Road, Victoria Docks, E.16._ A Hen Coup During the retreat from Mons strict orders were issued against looting. One day an officer, coming round a corner, discovered a stalwart Cockney Tommy in the act of wringing the neck of an inoffensive-looking chicken. The moment the Tommy caught sight of his officer he was heard to murmur to the chicken, "Would yer, yer brute!" Quite obviously, therefore, the deed had been done in self-defence.--_The Rev. T. K. Lowdell, Church of St. Augustine, Lillie Road, Fulham, S.W.6._ A "Baa-Lamb" in the Trenches The "dug-out" was really a hole scraped in the side of a trench leading up to the front line and some 50 yards from it. It was October '16 on the Somme, after the weather had broken. The trench was about two feet deep in liquid mud--a delightful thoroughfare for runners and other unfortunate ones who had to use it. The officer in the dug-out heard the _splosh--splosh--splosh_ ... of a single passenger coming up the trench. As the splosher drew abreast the dug-out the officer heard him declaiming to himself: "Baa! baa! I'm a blinkin' lamb lorst in the ruddy wilderness. Baa! baa!..." And when the bleating died away the _splosh--splosh--splosh_ ... grew fainter too, as the "lamb" was lost in the night.--_L. W. Martinnant, 64 Thornsbeach Road, Catford, S.E.6._ He Coloured When serving with the Artists' Rifles in France we went into the line to relieve the "Nelsons" of the 63rd (Royal Naval) Division.