Then we were played and sung out to the quaint tune of the “Entered Apprentices’ Song.” I noticed that the regular Brethren of the Lodge did not begin to take off their regalia till the lines: “Great Kings, Dukes, and Lords Have laid down their swords.” They moved into the ante-room, now set for the Banquet, on the verse: “Antiquity’s pride We have on our side, Which maketh men just in their station.” The Brother (a big-boned clergyman) that I found myself next to at table told me the custom was “a fond thing vainly invented” on the strength of some old legend. He laid down that Masonry should be regarded as an “intellectual abstraction.” An Officer of Engineers disagreed with him, and told us how in Flanders, a year before, some ten or twelve Brethren held Lodge in what was left of a Church. Save for the Emblems of Mortality and plenty of rough ashlars, there was no furniture. “I warrant you weren’t a bit the worse for that,” said the Clergyman. “The idea should be enough without trappings.” “But it wasn’t,” said the other. “We took a lot of trouble to make our regalia out of camouflage-stuff that we’d pinched, and we manufactured our jewels from old metal. I’ve got the set now. It kept us happy for weeks.” “Ye were absolutely irregular an’ unauthorised. Whaur was your Warrant?” said the Brother from the Military Lodge. “Grand Lodge ought to take steps against----” “If Grand Lodge had any sense,” a private three places up our table broke in, “it ’ud warrant travelling Lodges at the front and attach first-class lecturers to ’em.” “Wad ye confer degrees promiscuously?” said the scandalised Scot. “Every time a man asked, of course. You’d have half the Army in.” The speaker played with the idea for a little while, and proved that, on the lowest scale of fees, Grand Lodge would get huge revenues. “I believe,” said the Engineer Officer thoughtfully, “I could design a complete travelling Lodge outfit under forty pounds weight.” “Ye’re wrong. I’ll prove it. We’ve tried ourselves,” said the Military Lodge man; and they went at it together across the table, each with his own note-book. The “Banquet” was simplicity itself. Many of us ate in haste so as to get back to barracks or hospitals, but now and again a Brother came in from the outer darkness to fill a chair and empty a plate. These were Brethren who had been there before and needed no examination. One man lurched in--helmet, Flanders mud, accoutrements and all--fresh from the leave-train. “’Got two hours to wait for my train,” he explained. “I remembered your night, though. My God, this is good!” “What is your train and from what station?” said the Clergyman precisely. “Very well. What will you have to eat?” “Anything. Everything. I’ve thrown up a month’s rations in the Channel.”