Talking about Madame reminds me that I have never mentioned how small was the size of the very diminutive water jug which we were given in our bedroom here. When I first saw it, it brought vividly back the story of an old friend's experience in an out-of-the-way town in Germany of many years ago, when, finding in the bedrooms water jugs the size of a fair sized tea-cup, inquired if a bath was procurable and was met with amazed and blank countenances. They had never even heard of such a thing. Tea cups had always amply satisfied their own requirements. Dirt did not settle so readily upon them as it apparently did on the skin of Englishmen. But they could perhaps have it made at the expense of the Englishman, and so a drawing was given of the sized bath required, and eventually, after many searchings of heart, this implement of water warfare was constructed. Our water jug, it is true, was larger than a tea cup, but it stood not so very much higher than my sponge. * * * * * The last glimpse of France that one carries away with one, when the land grows ever dimmer and dimmer from one's standpoint on board ship, as one leans over the taffrail, are three landmarks--the domed spire of St. Jacques, the castellated tower of St. Remy, and, further to the north, the old castle, standing apart and grey, towering above its ramparts. Finally, even these fade away into a soft mystery of grey-blue haze, and one regretfully realises that one is severed from the land of sunshine and fair vineyards. THE END _The Anchor Press, Ltd., Tiptree, Essex._ * * * * * Transcriber's Note: Obvious typographical and punctuation errors were repaired.