“Great!” he said. “I and a couple other fellas has a room next to a pig on one side and a flock o’ chickens on the other. We never get lonesome, and it makes it nice and handy when we want some ham and eggs. I know one fella that rooms next to a settlement o’ rats. Night times he sets his flashlight so’s it throws a narrow path o’ light acrost the floor, then he puts a little piece o’ meat in the path and stands over it with a bayonet. When Mr. Rat gets there the fella comes down whang with the bayonet and fastens him to the floor. It’s good target practise, and he’d ought to be sure fire by the time it’s Huns instead o’ rats.” “Maybe,” said I, “the Huns would know better than to come out in the light.” “They’d go anywheres for a piece o’ meat,” said the private. He had to depart and report for muster. We took another road home, a road frequented by sheep and railroad crossings, both of which slow you up considerably. In France the gates--strong iron ones--at grade crossings are kept closed except when some one wants to cross the tracks. The some one makes known his desire by tooting his horn or shouting, and the gatekeeper--usually an old lady with the pipe-smoking habit--comes out of her shack and opens the gates, expending anywhere from ten minutes to half an hour on the task. The salary attached to the position is the same as that of a French private: ten centimes a day, which is two cents in regular money. I presume the gatekeepers have a hot time in the old town on pay night. As for the sheep, when you come up behind them you might as well resign yourself to staying behind them till they reach the village for which they are headed. They won’t get out of the way of their own accord, and neither the dog nor the aged shepherd will make any effort to sidetrack them. Having led them into the village, the shepherd proceeds to deliver them to their respective owners. He stops in front of a house, plays a certain tune on his horn, and the sheep or sheeps belonging to that house step out of ranks and sheepishly retire for the night, or perhaps sit up a while in the parlor and talk war with the family. There must be a lot of intermarrying among the sheeps of one village. A great many of those in the flock we saw looked enough alike to be cousins or something. Somebody suggested a poker game for this evening’s entertainment, but I got all I wanted of that great sport coming across the bounding blue. It has rained only an hour in two days, and the boys say we’ll get it good to-morrow. _Saturday, September 1. In an American Camp._ As exclusively predicted by everybody, it was pouring when we arose this morning, but rain doesn’t keep you indoors in France. If it did, you would live indoors.