On another occasion my friend himself went into a chemist’s shop at St. Omer with the object of purchasing some hair-wash. "Huile pour les chevaux" was the nearest he could think of, and he was greatly alarmed when the chemist produced a bottle of Elliman’s horse embrocation and proclaimed its excellent qualities at some length. _Huile pour les chevaux_ and _huile pour les cheveux_ are two very different things! But Tommy is seldom at a loss. "Deux beers sivous play, Ma’mselle, compree?" he will demand as he enters an estaminet, and if Ma’mselle in question has any pretensions to beauty, he will not infrequently at a later stage of the proceedings, purely, no doubt, by way of paying a delicate compliment and to further cement the _entente_, add to his previous remarks some such jocular suggestion as "Promnarde avec moi?" To which the Ma’mselle will probably reply to the effect that he is "Très polisson." Tommy, nothing daunted, will round off the conversation by some cryptic remark to the effect that she is "no bong"! Certain phrases, easily acquired orally, and seldom quite understood—for example, "nar poo," derived from "il n’y-en a plus," do duty on many occasions and under varying circumstances. Tommy even sometimes carries his French phrases so far as his letters home, possibly for "showing off" purposes. His spelling of French words is usually quaint. Many of our lorry drivers, as I have explained, were previous to the war motor-bus and taxi-cab drivers in London. The powers of repartee of this type of man are proverbial, and with a slight admixture of French have lost none of their former crispness. On the contrary, his "vocabulary" has been augmented. It is a pity that we have had to resort to conscription for the Army, and one can only hope that sooner or later some distinction will be made between the conscript and the man who, regardless of age and the cost, volunteered for service in the early part of the war. In an Army Service Corps unit particularly, one notices men whose appearance leads one to think that there is, to say the least, a discrepancy between their real and regimental age as given on enlistment. I recollect asking one elderly-looking man his age; he replied, "Forty-two, sir." Noticing that on his breast was the blue and white ribbon of the Egypt medal of 1882, I remarked, "Then you must have been eight years old when that was awarded to you!"