As a contrast to the many posters which placard every available hoarding and wall in England, there are very few in France. One is to be seen everywhere—in cafés, railway carriages, in the streets, etc.; and it contains three lines of straightforward and pungently sound advice, strictly to the point and commendably brief. It emanates from the Minister of War, and is as follows: Taisez-vous! Méfiez-vous! Les oreilles des ennemies vous écoutent! The only other posters to be seen advertise the advantages of investment in the French War Loan; they are obviously drawn by artists, and are in keeping with the best theatrical posters in London, such as one would see outside His Majesty’s Theatre. The three lines of warning which I have referred to above lead me to the question of spies. Of course, spies there are, without a doubt, especially in places which have previously been in enemy occupation, and through such agents information of military importance is conveyed to the enemy, by one method or another. There are, however, alleged spies, who are occasionally reported by different people, soldiers or civilians, who may have reason to suspect them. The various Assistant Provost Marshals are, naturally, only too anxious to catch real spies, and are not only willing but keen to investigate reports and incidentally inconvenience ninety-nine suspects in the hope of catching the hundredth. Curious mistakes happen, and did so particularly in the early stages of the war. On one occasion an apparently eminently respectable-looking and bearded Frenchman was apprehended. He was noticed standing in the street making what appeared to be entries in a pocket-book with the aid of a pencil whilst some batteries of artillery were passing along through the town.