A French officer was also surprised at the extensive toilet of our soldiers: "At Ypres I had the pleasure of making the acquaintance of Tommy Atkins, whose smart appearance and jovial manner I greatly admired. He's a perfect soldier. I saw him one morning making his toilet when Taubes were flying over our heads and dropping bombs not far away. He shaved first, and then, with a bucket of hot water standing on the step of a railway carriage, washed himself, much soap and rubbing with a large towel. I lost sight of him just when he was putting his tooth-brush into a pot of paste to clean his teeth." The correspondent of the _Petit Parisien_ wrote that he was impressed by the excellent spirits and devotion to duty of the British troops, and the fraternal solicitude of the officers for their men. "Ah, those British soldiers!" exclaimed a French officer. "In my regiment you only hear such expressions as '_Quel soldats!_', '_Ils sont superb._' How splendidly they behave! In their discipline and their respect for their officers they are magnificent." The French people were delighted with the size of the Highlanders, and with the kilts they wore. A woman shouted out in admiration as they marched past: "There go the women from hell." She thought that was the biggest compliment she could pay. The French were surprised to see our men going into battle singing songs and playing mouth-organs. They liked their gaiety and sporting spirit. If they had understood the words they would have relished in the following marching song the allusion to the Kaiser's order for the extermination of General French's "contemptible little army:" "What! Wad ye stop the pipers? Nay, 'tis ower soon! Dance, since ye're dancing, William, Dance, ye puir loon! Dance till ye're dizzy, William, Dance till ye swoon! Dance till ye're deid, my laddie! We play the tune!" The French must have been astonished at the pipes of the Highlanders when they heard them first at Boulogne and at the marching song of the Irish: "It's a long way to Tipperary, It's a long way to go. It's a long way to Tipperary, And the sweetest girl I know. Good-bye, Piccadilly! Farewell, Leicester-square! It's a long, long way to Tipperary, But my heart's just there." For some time about twenty men of the London Scottish Highlanders did military police duty in Paris, and patrolled the streets every day looking after British soldiers who might be in the city for any reason. To the people on the boulevards this patrol was a popular institution, and they gave loud "Heep--heeps" and cheers for old England when they saw them coming. The kilt of the Highlanders no doubt had something to do with this admiration, and the curiosity of the fair sex must have been at times embarrassing. But the dignified bearing of the men, their genial courtesy, and their strict attention to the business in hand sufficiently explained their popularity.