house, and gave a great streak of light, as it does when it strikes a hard substance. A large piece of the building fell down behind him, but he never changed his voice or paid the slightest attention. I have had a letter from your aunt at Rostrevor about Sydney, to whom she seems very devoted.... IN TRENCHES. _January 24th, 1915._ I believe that to-day is Sunday, judging from the sound of church bells in the direction of the second town, which lies four miles behind us. They were ringing "to church" while we were standing "to arms" in the dark with a good deal of rifle fire, though not much from the guns. A new lot of Germans, we think, have come opposite to us, and they are very hard shooters, always firing either machine guns or rifles. We are too busy working at our parapets now to go for them, but when they are finished I propose to wake them up well. I got in rather early last night about midnight. You know war has comic incidents as well as pathetic ones. I was finishing my way round the trenches in the dark, when Mr. Gartland, R.I.R., a very nice boy, attached himself to me, and said he had orders to go to a certain place and did not know the road, and might he come with me. Of course I said "Yes," and we progressed till we came to a bridge, just a plank really over a wide stream. I crossed it quietly after whispering to him to be careful. Next moment I heard a frantic struggle and fall, and discovered him clutching on for dear life to the plank, having slipped on it. We managed to rescue him from a watery grave. I must tell you that all of this was out in the open within 200 yards of the German trenches, as we were crossing from company to company. My escort also fell at this bridge, but I caught him by the scruff of the neck, thereby preventing him getting into the water. I suppose Oakfield, my old home in Nova Scotia, taught me a bit about roughing it, so, elderly man that I am, I can keep fairly steady on my feet over this tricky ground. Well, having safely delivered Mr. G. at his place, I moved on, when we heard another fearful splash and then more floundering, and found that a corporal of my stretcher-bearers had fallen into a very deep drain full of water. Again my escort and myself started off to earn the Royal Humane Society's medal. However, he managed to scramble out, wet through. As I say, the comic side alternates with the pathetic, for just then we had a poor boy shot through the head. In the dark we made out that it was his eye, but on getting him to hospital, where we could strike a light to work with, we saw that the bullet had gone through the nose, down the side of the face, and out through his neck. He is alive this morning, so it may be that he will turn the corner all right yet. I received your letter of January 20th last night, which is good. You ask me about block houses.