I remember one little fellow with a crutch who, though a confirmed cripple, hobbled in front of our band for miles. It was a sight which made us forget that we were footsore and hungry. Away, behind us, are the memories of the long train journey from Ismailia to Alexandria. Only a vague recollection remains of our small fleet of transports sailing the beautiful waters of the Mediterranean. We do sometimes think of the reception we got as we steamed into Marseilles, with its statue of Notre Dame guarding the seas from her eminence on the hill above. Then the long troop trains and longer journey across La Belle France. A beautiful country, 'worth fighting for,' is the verdict of many a stalwart Australian from 'out back,' and from perhaps some little Bush township, with but a church, a blacksmith's shop, and an hotel. Further out, of course, there was a race-course, and divided by miles there were the stations and farms, but it was a land of magnificent distances. Here, however, there is intensive cultivation, and towns close to each other. A pleasant land of beautiful trees and rivers, and grass of greenness new to us. But we are getting closer to the desolation of war, closer to the valley of decision. By and by we rest in a small village, and it is Sunday. The church bells are ringing, and as I have made elaborate arrangements for church parades, I am looking forward to a good padre's day. The brigadier, however, cancels everything. 'Sorry, padre, the men are going to be "gassed" this morning, but not by you.' They are, and they look very uncanny manœuvring there in the fields with gas-helmets on. No one is harmed by the gas, and they learn that it is possible to live and move under gas. But I am sure they would have preferred my gas for once. I am billeted with a very nice family here; and as the daughter is quite charming, I have many visits from the younger officers. I did not know I was so popular with them. Mademoiselle has learnt to speak English quite well. 'Don't you like Australians best of all?' said Lieutenant Gallant, with a languishing look to mademoiselle. 'We have many good soldiers here; English (they do not say much); Scotch—very good men; they speak more, and ask if there is any place where they can buy whisky. I like them all, and I do like Australians best.' The gallant lieutenant beams with joy; but she continues archly, 'Because I always like those best who come last.' Now the battalion is formed up to march. My batman says to mademoiselle: 'You are very sorry we are going, aren't you?' 'But, yes,' and one could see it was real sorrow. 'I know why,' I ventured to say. 'It is Sunday, and to-day you would have worn your beautiful dress.'