One pretty girl came to us in despair one morning, because one of us could talk Russian, and told us that the Cossacks had broken into her stores in the night and stolen everything. We found they had left much. It is remarkable how effectively and cleverly these people can secrete their goods. But she knew that they would get the rest in time so she begged us to take it from her as a gift. We learned she was the daughter of the merchant who was presumably the richest man in the town. Her parents had gone to Archangel. She had refused to go. Her brothers were in Bolshevist territory. She had attended school in Moscow. She was now something of a socialist and utterly out of sympathy with her family. We bought all her goods. Some hand-woven skirt material. Some food stuff. Some oats and flour. She went to work at British headquarters as a scullery maid and was glad of the chance. And I do think she was irritated considerably by the attentions paid her because she was a pretty girl. They were of course most unartful and blatant as well as general. A week after the peasants were evacuated the engineers who were cutting machine-gun holes in the bath houses found the frozen body of an old woman who had hidden herself in a bath house and died there rather than go away from the village where she had spent all her life. The body lay untouched for a week. Bodies froze like ice or iron when the temperature was below zero. [Illustration: The Canadian artillery got there every time. This Russian gun crew on the railroad front enjoys warmer weather.]