In order to travel in France which is all under military rule, a great many documents, tickets, and identification papers are necessary, and it takes a great deal of labor and patience to procure them all. The Y.M.C.A. office in Paris is an enormous and hectic place, with its various departments poorly co-ordinated; so I, like every one else, did a great deal of running up and down stairs and much retracing of steps before everything concerning baggage, tickets, money, equipment, mail, etc., was attended to. Tuesday morning, I and my baggage were at the station two hours ahead of train-time as I had been warned was necessary. There I received the joyful news that there was no 2.30 train to Sémur. That there was one at nine in the evening and another at 7.00 a.m. I had been in France long enough not to be upset by a mere trifle like that, so I set about registering my baggage and attending to the dozens of things that are necessary at the station. A most delightful old porter was my guide, counsellor and friend, leading me through the maze of red tape with unfaltering steps. I entrusted all my handbaggage to him for the night, which would seem rash to all who hadn't looked into his shrewd and kindly face. And then I walked back into Paris with only a toothbrush in my pocket. After reporting my delay at headquarters, who scowled at me for their mistake, I got a room at the Hotel Richepanse, near the Place de la Concorde. Rooms are hard to find in Paris these days, and I had to do a good deal of wandering before I secured this one. I was glad I didn't have my copious and heavy luggage. After a good rest, I did a little frivolous shopping, including a fetching and most unmilitary hat. Heaven knows when I shall wear it, but it folds up flat and I couldn't resist it. And I had supper with a harmless little "Y" girl and went to bed early.