On my journey across Italy I found everywhere a refreshing calm and confidence and not the slightest indication of any nervousness. Milan had had one or two visits from _Taubes_, so was in darkness at night, otherwise there was no reminder of the war; the life and gaiety of the city was the same as ever, and it was apparently bubbling over with prosperity. There was a noticeable improvement in the railway service to Udine. Instead of a rough and ready journey there were now a sleeping car and restaurant attached to the train, so one travelled in comfort. Udine appeared to me much changed. There were far fewer soldiers to be seen in the streets, owing probably to the fact that the fighting lines were now so much farther away, and the old time bustling military activity was no longer noticeable. An air of stolid business seemed to have taken its place. Many of the big public buildings that had been temporarily utilized for staff purposes, and which used to overflow with martial activity were now closed; more convenient quarters having been found elsewhere. To anyone, therefore, arriving in Udine now for the first time the little town must have appeared quite commonplace, apart from its historical and architectural features. But the greatest change was at the Censorship. It had been improved beyond all recognition, and it was evident that the Government no longer regarded the representatives of the fourth estate as interlopers, but as honoured guests. A fine, roomy old palace had been rented and transformed into a Press Bureau and club for the war-correspondents. The Censorship staff, consisting of three officers—Colonel Barbarich, Lt.-Colonel Clericetti, and Captain Weillschott, three courteous and genial gentlemen—did their utmost to make the lot of the correspondents as pleasant as possible. They were good friends rather than mentors, and you could not help having the greatest regard and esteem for them. In addition to the spacious and comfortable club-room, where writing paper and other requisites were provided, and soldiers were on duty as club servants, the Government had gone one better than any club I know of, for, with true Italian hospitality, black coffee after lunch or dinner, afternoon tea with cakes, and “soft” drinks in the evening were provided free of charge. Before lunch or during the afternoon one was pretty sure to meet here everyone who was in Udine in connection with journalism, or who was visiting the Front; as Udine was still the starting point for expeditions to the lines, and it was only here that the military passes were issued. The Censorship, therefore, had grown into a permanent and well-organized institution, but it had dwindled to insignificant proportions so far as the number of accredited correspondents was concerned, as compared with what it had been the previous year.