Steggles was once riding behind me down a valley liberally dimpled with shell-holes, further dimples being in process of formation as we rode. I was returning from an O Pip, or Observation Post, and Steggles was carrying a pair of my boots with a rolled puttee stuffed into each. Suddenly I was aware that he had wheeled his horse about, and was trotting back towards the most dimply area of the valley. Out of regard for his family, I cantered after him. He broke into a gallop. When, after a thrilling ride, I caught him and had a little talk amongst the dimples, it appeared that he had dropped one of the puttees, and wished to return and look for it. This incident will, I think, demonstrate the exceptional character of the man, who did not appear to regard himself as a hero, or to pose as a desperate _farceur_, or to aspire to the post of Q.M.S., though, incredible as it may seem, the puttee in question was of the variety G.S. * * * * * [Illustration: _Orderly Officer_. "WHY DON'T YOU CHALLENGE ME?" _Latest called-up Recruit_. "I DIDN'T KNOW YOU WERE COMING." _Orderly Officer_. "WHAT DID THE CORPORAL SAY WHEN HE POSTED YOU?" _Recruit_. "I WOULDN'T LIKE TO REPEAT IT TO AN OFFICER, SIR."] * * * * * OUR BOOKING-OFFICE. (_By Mr. Punch's Staff of Learned Clerks_.) To those who would learn what soldiering is like in the armies of democratic France I would heartily commend two books recently published by Messrs. ALLEN AND UNWIN, _Battles and Bivouacs_, by JACQUES ROUJON, and _The Diary of a French Private_, by GASTON RIOU. M. ROUJON, infantryman of the line, was in private life a journalist on _Le Figaro_; M. RIOU, Red Cross orderly, a liberal lay-theologian and writer of European reputation. The former's transliterator ("Munitions are distributed around," writes he undismayed; and has also discovered a territory known as "Oriental Prussia") obtrudes a little between author and reader. M. RIOU fares better; but both contrive to give a really vivid impression of the horrors and anxieties of the early days of the War before the tide turned at the Marne, of the flying rumours so far from the actual truth, of the fine spirit of _camaraderie_ in common danger, of the intimate relations between officers and men, details, terrible or trivial, of campaigning, and, because our spirited brothers-in-arms are not ashamed to express their innermost feelings, of the deeper emotions at work under the surface gaieties. M. RIOU'S narrative is mainly the record of his year's captivity in a Bavarian fort. On his way he faced the fanatical hatred and cruelty of the German civilians, of the women especially, with a cynical fortitude. The commandant of his prison, Baron von STENGEL, was, however, a gentleman and a brick, and did everything in his power to make the difficult life bearable. An episode pleasant to recall is the reception of the Russian