The French girls are going mad on getting our cap-badges and the numerals on our shoulders. We have been served with jack-knives, and they want to buy them of us, but we will not part with them: _A Private of the Worcesters_. Want Nothing France is a lovely country, but the sun has been very hot and trying--almost as bad as India. The roads are lined with apple and pear trees, which are now laden with fruit, and the troops are not in want of anything in that line: _Quartermaster-Sergeant R. Hodge_. “Cheer, Boys, Cheer” It’s enough to give you fits to hear the Frenchmen trying to pick up the words of “Cheer, Boys, Cheer,” which we sing with a great go on the march. They haven’t any notion of what the words mean, but they can tell from our manner that they mean we’re in great heart, and that’s infectious here: _Sergt. W. Holmes, Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders_. Couldn’t Understand! We never see a paper here; only a French one, and you should see the sport when our fellows try to read one. Everyone has his own way of reading it. The French people are very nice, also very generous. The only drawback is we can’t understand them--only just a few words now and again: _Sergt. D. O’Donnell, 2nd Royal Irish_. Those Highlanders The French people could not do enough for us when we landed at Boulogne. They were principally struck with the Highlanders. They had been told we were the most daring of the British forces, and one woman shouted out in admiration as we marched past, “There go the women from hell.” She thought that was the biggest compliment she could pay us: _A Seaforth Highlander_. Her “Soldat” The French people run out with bread and wine and fruit, and press them on the soldiers as they march through the villages. To-day we are camped by a field of lucerne, which is fortunate, as no hay is available. The tinned meat is very good, and we get French bread at times, which is excellent. Yesterday, passing through a village early, I went into a small buvette, and got coffee and some chocolate. The good woman refused all payment, saying she had a son who was “soldat,” and I could not get her to take any money at all: _Anonymous_. Delightfully Hungry I have never felt so well in my life, and, my word, I can eat--any time and all times. We get plenty of real good food, and tea or coffee. You will be rather surprised to hear we are served with roast beef, lamb, boiled beef, bully beef, cheese, bacon, jam, marmalade, large and small biscuits, onions, carrots, spuds, celery; in fact, we are living like lords. But we can’t get any London shag (that is the worst rub), nor any fag-papers, at least not with gum on them: _Pte. C. A. Porter, Army Service Corps_. Dandy Lads