A curious feature about this place is the almost complete absence of birds. One never hears birds singing as in England. The result is that the earth teems with spiders, etc., on which birds are accustomed to feed. I was on guard at ---- during the past twenty-four hours, and it was intensely interesting to chat with French Tommies who gathered round our fire. They are frightfully “bucked” when they meet anyone English with whom they can talk. A large number of the H.A.C. speak French. For this reason, if for nothing else, the people here pay us a good deal of attention. They are deadly keen on getting souvenirs. If it is discovered that we have parted with our grenade or our shoulder letters, our leave is stopped. At the place where we landed 5 francs were offered for the letters “H.A.C.”: _A Member of the Honourable Artillery Company_. Quite Royal! The nearest approach to our reception in France is like what the King got when he came to Notts. There are hundreds of chaps in England who would give twenty years of their lives to get such a reception as we get wherever we go. I should advise any chaps coming to France to bring a corkscrew with them, because they will get loads of wine given them by the French peasants--they can’t do enough for us. And the girls! By Jove, there are some beauties--it’s Nottingham beauty over again. Our greatest needs at the present time are English cigs., blankets, and soap. I have only got thirty cigarettes left, and the chaps here will give anything from 1d. to 6d. for a cigarette. They are far more valuable than money. Another thing which is valuable is water. Water is more scarce than petrol. We have to walk about half a mile for water, and then it’s not very good. We’re not afraid of washing after one another in the same water. I’ve seen about a dozen wash in one bucket of water.... The French soldiers do look funny in red trousers and blue coats, compared with our khaki suits. Half our chaps are minus badges and buttons, which the French girls have taken as souvenirs--I got a little doll off one girl when we were at Rouen. I might mention that hardly any of the chaps have any money--I’ve got the large sum of 2½d.: _Pte. F. Smith, Army Service Corps_. IV. THE ENEMY GERMAN _Smite, England, to the tramp of marching men-- The rhythmic heart-heat of a world in pain-- Smite, hip and thigh, with flashing steel, and then Unfurl thy peaceful banners once again._ HORACE ANNESLEY VACHELL. _Oh, Polly love, oh, Polly, the rout has now begun, And we must march along by the beating of the drum; Go dress yourself in your best and come along with me: I’ll take you to the war that’s in High Germany._ OLD ENGLISH SONG.