We had a terrible time at Mons, and for four days and nights we did nothing but fight, and I should think the Germans had three men to every one of ours. On August 24 we lost one hundred men in about five minutes. We had a mile and a half to gallop over open country with as many as thirty shells a minute bursting round us. How I got out of it I do not know, for I had not gone 200 yards before a shell burst under my horse and killed it. I was not touched, and I managed, with a bit of luck, to get another horse from a comrade who had been killed. I am sure it was worse than hell let loose, and I think I said a prayer afterwards, but anyway I shall soon be right now. The man who was with me when I was wounded is dead. He died as soon as the search party found us. He was shot twice in the stomach, whilst I was shot in the thigh. I crawled to him when he was dying, but I could not help him as I was in such agony myself. He gave me his papers, and I gave them to the officer when he rode up to us: _Lance-Corpl. Potton, 18th Hussars_. His True Colours We had been entrenched two days when a German spy was captured. He spoke English as well as I do, and shouted to me, “I surrender, I surrender; take me prisoner.” He was placed in a corner of the trench, seven feet deep, and was guarded. He soon began to chatter, and told us his history in such a plausible manner that we believed him. He told us he had been in private service as a butler in Surrey and Sussex, and also a waiter in hotels at Brighton, Liverpool, and Manchester. The devil actually cried when he pulled out of his pocket the photo of a girl he said he intended making his wife when the war was over if he was spared, and begged we would not take it away from him. He said she was a Lancashire lassie--he could put on the north-country dialect all right--and read portions of a letter she wrote him when he was called up. The traitor gave us a lot of supposed information about the Germans, and pretended to be as wild as a March hare when he spoke of their officers. They were everything that was bad. I must admit I thought the fellow was genuine, and I gave him some of my rations, but several of the others had their doubts. He had been with us three days when he showed himself in his true colours. It was pitch dark, and raining like cats and dogs. He jumped out of the trench and made a dash for the German trenches, but he did not get thirty yards away before he was brought down. The next morning we saw his dead body lying where he fell: _Sapper A. G. Hutton, R.E._ A Barricade