Riding on French trains is very soothing unless one is in a hurry. But unlike a man in civil life, the soldier has no interest in the speed of trains. The civilian takes it as a personal affront if his train is a few minutes late, or if it does not go as fast as he thinks it should. But the soldier can afford to let the Government look after such minor details. The train moved along at a leisurely pace through the lovely French countryside, making frequent friendly stops at wayside stations. On the platform at Etaples station was posted a rhyme which read:-- "A wise old owl lived in an oak, The more he saw, the less he spoke; The less he spoke, the more he heard; Soldiers should imitate that old bird." It was the first time that Talbot had seen this warlike ditty. Its intention was to guard soldiers from saying too much in front of strangers. Talbot vowed, however, to apply its moral to himself at all times and under all conditions. From nine in the morning until half-past two in the afternoon they rolled along, and had covered by this time the extraordinary distance of about forty miles! Here at last was the station of Saint-P----. Talbot looked about him. Standing near was an officer with the Machine-Gun Corps Badge, whom he hailed, and questioned about the Headquarters of the Tank Corps. "About ten miles from here. Are you going there?" the fellow asked. Talbot explained that he hoped to, and being saturated with Infantry ideas, he wondered if a passing motor lorry might give him a lift. The man laughed. "Why don't you telephone Headquarters and ask them to send a car over for you?" he asked. Talbot did not quite know whether the fellow were ragging him or not. He decided that he was, for who had ever heard of "telephoning for a car"? "Oh, I don't believe I'll do that--thanks very much for the hint, all the same," he said. "Just tell me which road to take and I'll be quite all right." The officer smiled. "I'm quite serious about it," he said. "We all telephone for cars when we need them. There's really no point in your walking--in fact, they'll be surprised if you stroll in upon them. Try telephoning and you'll find they won't die of shock." Partly to see whether they would or not, and partly because he found the prospect of a motor car more agreeable than a ten-mile walk, Talbot telephoned. Here he experienced another pleasant surprise, for he was put through to Headquarters with no difficulty at all. A cheerful voice answered and he stated his case. "Cheero," the voice replied. "We'll have a car there for you in an hour--haven't one now, but there will be one ready shortly." Saint-P---- was a typical French town, and Talbot strolled around. There were soldiers everywhere, but the town had never seen the Germans, and it was a pleasant place. There was, too, a refreshing lack of thick mud--at least it was not a foot deep.