Captain Teixeira could not only imitate the song of birds. He was a singer himself. Among many other manifestations of friendship, he gave me a set of improvisations, “Songs from Coimbra”--Coimbra, a University town and capital of the Portuguese province of Beira, giving its name to that school of poetry which had inception in 1848 with the publication of “O Trovador.” I have made effort to convert these “Cantares” into English verse: I Let my coffin be Of shape strange and bizarre-- The shape of a heart, The shape of a guitar! II If a man should be slain, And a cross mark his rest, He shall also have grave, Little brown girl, in your breast! III There are caverns in my breast As in the bottoms of the sea Fashioned by tides of tears, And sorrows surging in me. IV Some day when I die O love, warm and rare, In a shroud let me lie Of your shadowy hair. A GERMAN BOMBARDMENT One afternoon German aviators bombarded the camp--very harmlessly, however--with broadsheets, and not with bombs. After an exciting race and scrum I succeeded in securing a copy. It was in the form of a child’s catechism, with as heading a quaint woodcut of a town on the Rhine. It commenced: “Mother: My child, lovst thou thy Fatherland? Son: Yes, mother, Yes, with my whole heart. Mother: Why lovst thou thy Fatherland? Son: Because there was I cradled.” It ended with an appeal for the Eighth War Loan. Although we had, of course, no access to English newspapers, the German authorities permitted us to order the _Frankfurter Zeitung_ and the _Berliner Tageblatt_, and from these the most imperative news was translated and written up daily in a _communiqué_ book. During more urgent periods _Extrablätter_ were posted up in the dining hut. Thus news of the great German offensive in March, 1918 percolating into camp caused us unutterable dullness and depression. Most of us seemed absolutely helpless and hopeless in these dark days. “I love my country,” said Lieut. H---- chokingly. To make matters worse there was almost an entire clearance of the camp, including many of the men who had added to the gaiety of such nations as were here represented. Flags were flying, and in the distant streets one could hear the sound of singing and cheering. Whether by chance, however, or, as is possible, by more delicate design, none of the banners, except the two official ones at the gate, were hung so high in the surrounding houses as blatantly and jubilantly to overlook the camp. In the case of the Russian peace, as in that with the Ukraine, the flags were hung from the topmost stories; in the present instance they were not hung above the level of the palisades, and were more evidently intended for the man in the street. THE BATH ATTENDANT