"Then we got mixed up with the Germans, and got the order to clear the houses with the bayonet. That was great sport; no shells, and only scrapping in a decent sort of way. We took four prisoners and scuppered the rest of them, about 200; then we were just examining the slain for pistols and other handy little souvenirs, when the shrapnel started again all among us. It was very hot, and we had to hop the twig behind a big bank; we were all laughing and joking. . . . One bullet turned my bonnet round on my head, and I sat down in the mud, and I got one through my kilt. "Finally, they came behind one of our trenches in kilts, and said, 'Schotlant for effer and London Schottish;' but a volley put an end to that. At last the French arrived in force, and we had a stand easy, and were sent back for a rest. I am longing for another dig at them; it is the finest excitement going. One thing we have done--no more sneering at 'Terriers' out here by the Tommies; they are all very proud of us now, and somehow we feel different now that we have been through the hoop." [Illustration: A Pleasant Scene in the Grand Place at Arras. (_From the picture by D. Macpherson. By permission of The Sphere._) A correspondent says: "In the early afternoon I saw in the huge Grand Place at Arras (one of the relics of the long occupation by the Spanish) the prettiest of scenes. A squadron of French dragoons had halted there, and the men had dismounted. The long row of horses had each a new master, for the dragoons had put children into the saddle, and each child had on its head a dragoon's casque."] * * * * * The following extract is from the diary of a subaltern in the London Scottish: "I have succeeded in getting hold of a motor 'bus to go for supplies. It is a London 'General.' There are dozens of them here, and it seems difficult to realize that we are so far away when we see the usual advertisements around us.... "It is a funny thing, but a fact, that our fellows bear pain much better than the Germans. To-day I had a small bugler of a British battalion with a shocking shoulder wound, who sat there simply hanging on to himself, and not uttering a sound; while a tremendous German near by, with a bullet wound in his hand, sat nursing himself, weeping at frequent intervals, and making no end of a row." * * * * *