And now there is a sirocco blowing which is laying us all on our backs. Fourgues and I spend our time on the bridge, fanning ourselves and watching the movements of the great hookers which come and go. One has to acknowledge that it’s pretty work. Fourgues is very enthusiastic, and you know he can handle a ship a bit himself. It’s like Paris in front of the Gare Saint-Lazare, there are so many little and big boats and never a collision. To speak again of myself, I have had a letter from La Rochelle and my fiancée writes that, as the war seems to be dragging on, there is no reason why we should wait for the end--that we could be married at the first opportunity. I should like to very much, but I want your advice. Do you think it is better to wait for peace and not marry on the spur of the moment? I have saved a thousand francs, although the owner doesn’t give us a sou more now than in time of peace. With this we could start. We should try to get you in France for the wedding! Write me what you think. Sometimes I get the hump a bit, being always on the go and never knowing when it is going to end. I wish I were like Fourgues. When he is down in the mouth he blackguards everyone all round and gets rid of it like that. But I’m not that way. He has just gone ashore because the French _liaison_ officer wishes to give him orders. Perhaps to-night we shall know where we are going. But the mail-boat for the Navy is sailing at once and I don’t want to miss it. Take care of yourself, old man, and write. ARCHANGEL, _September 15, 1915_. DEAR OLD MAN,