Many of us have been able to see for ourselves the wonderful phlegm of the British soldiers. They are born warriors. They are soldiers by predilection as much as by trade. Most of them have taken part in numerous campaigns, and many fought in the Boer War, in which they gained precious experience. We have listened with admiration to the glorious accounts which our chivalrous French neighbours have given to the world of the British soldiers’ coolness and tenacity in the fight near the village of Quaregnon, where twenty-six Britishers routed more than 3,500 Germans. The fight was witnessed by some of our own staff, and the story is absolutely authentic. It happened after the different battles which resulted in the evacuation of Mons. The Britishers, who had fought like heroes, must have retreated with reluctance in obedience, it is true, to orders received from the military authorities. As they were only giving ground step by step twenty-six Fusiliers entrenched themselves in a farm overlooking the long, straight road leading to Quaregnon. They were in possession of several mitrailleuses, and they made holes in the farm door, three lines of three holes in superposition, and placed their mitrailleuses in position. “Now, boys,” shouted one of the twenty-six, “we are going to cinematograph the grey devils when they come along. This is going to be Coronation Day. Let each of us take as many pictures as possible.” As soon as the Germans appeared on the road and started attacking the canal bridge the Fusiliers very coolly turned the handle of their deadly guns, commencing with the lower tier, and with the same placidity as a bioscope operator would have done. The picture witnessed from the farm on the “living screen” by the canal bridge was one that will not easily be forgotten. The “grey devils,” as the Germans are now commonly called, dropped down in hundreds like those tin soldiers (made in Germany) which our children arrange in long lines on the table and which fall in one big mass when the first one is slightly touched with the finger. In a few minutes the corpses were heaping up. Then followed another onslaught by the mitrailleuses placed against the upper part of the door, followed immediately by a fresh deadly sweep and by another one. The Germans, however, found out their difficult position, which exposed them to this destructive fire, and they resolutely took a turning move, and made straight for the farm. When they got there they found neither guns nor Fusiliers, but only an opening in a party wall, through which the plucky operators had disappeared with their apparatus.