One or two were perhaps men of the type which frequently occurs in the Legion of to-day, who only enlist to meet death in a form which appeals to their fancy, and who volunteer for one dangerous expedition after another till they meet the bullet for which they are so eager. But these have always been the exceptions. To the others fighting has always been a delight. ... A detachment of men are stationed in an isolated fort. The heat of the sun is merciless, the hard work unbearable and the monotony of duty gets on their nerves: the whole garrison becomes restless and can only be kept in order with the greatest difficulty. Then comes the command to turn out: there is a prospect of soldiering in earnest: the men are beside themselves with joy--when they have to fight they are relieved from slavery. This enthusiasm and passion to get at the enemy is the redeeming feature of many a ruined life. It acts as a safety-valve: otherwise the men could never stand the deadly monotony of their lives. The soldiers of the Legion have never yet fought just because they had to fight, or because their officers urged them on to it or because they had to defend their own wretched lives. The history of the regiment can only tell of glorious attacks, of furious charges made with a bravery that absolutely disregards danger and death. These poor adventurers have their own individual ideas of honour for which they are proud to give their lives and which the only French general who ever understood the Legion expressed in a few enthusiastic words. It was General de Négrier who said: Some soldiers can fight--the légionnaire can die. That is the légionnaire's idea of honour: his own individual idea. He will never hear the signal for retreat. I have so often heard the murmur of discontent which runs through the ranks when the hated call is heard at a manoeuvre. Eleven times in its history has the Legion refused to obey when the signal for retreat was blown. In France the performances of the Foreign Legion have always been recognised. It is true that the recognition has taken no substantial form. Its officers have always reaped the reward of quick promotion, but the légionnaire himself has always remained a poor devil without pay and without the slightest hope for the future. * * * * * Five centimes daily wages! On paper the légionnaire is paid seven centimes a day. That's what stands in the French army list. Two centimes daily are, however, deducted for messing, so that the real wages are five centimes per diem. After the "second congé," when he has five years' service behind him, his wages are raised to ten centimes daily; a corporal gets twenty centimes--a scale of pay which has perhaps a parallel in the Chinese army, certainly nowhere else in the world.