_Hark! I hear the tramp of thousands, And of armèd men the hum! Lo! a nation’s hosts have gathered Round the quick alarming drum, Saying, “Come, Freemen, come! Ere your heritage be wasted,” said the quick alarming drum._ BRET HARTE. The French people were like mothers to us, giving us food, money, and wine. It is a pity to see them leaving their homes and having nowhere to go: _Pte. W. Irwan, 1st East Lancashires_. Safe! The refugees used to follow our troops, as they knew they would be safe. The French people were very kind to us. They would have given us their shirt if they thought we wanted it. They gave us plenty of bread and cheese and wine and water: _Pte. W. Pallett, 2nd Royal Sussex Regiment_. Perfectly Happy I am in a little French village, halted for the day, and with a few chums have found a house that has been left in a hurry all complete with cooking-pots. I am preparing the supper, which smells all right, but you should see the ingredients. I am perfectly happy, as this seems the proper country for me, and I never felt better in my life. I am picking up French all right, but I have not started eating frogs yet: _Pte. T. Green, 5th Lancers_. “Du Pain!” My chum and I came into a village one day, and we wanted to get some bread and tobacco. We met a peasant woman in the village, and I said, “Du pain.” She took me by the arm and led me into a house. She opened a door and shoved me into a dark room. I couldn’t see where I was, and thought it might be a dodge, so I waved for my chum, and he came in as well. Then we noticed some food and a bottle of wine on the table: _Pte. Hannah, Scottish Borderers_. A Song of a Shirt I shall be a handy man soon. Yesterday I washed my only shirt. We were allowed only one with us and one at the base. I have washed it twice a month and used all my soap. Washing is a luxury, but I have managed a couple of good swims. The worst part of yesterday’s washing was that just as I had finished wringing it out orders came to move off, and I have been all night shirtless, and it looks as though I shall be a day or two without, because I have no opportunity of hanging it out to dry: _A Private, of Bridlington_. Like Rob Roy We are quartered in large caves alongside a château three hundred years old. We occupy three caves, and a large fire is lighted in the middle of each to purify the air and keep us warm at night. The nights are bitterly cold and very damp. Incidentally it is fine to-day, but we have had days of pouring rain--not that it affected our spirits in the least. You should see us all clustered round our fires in the evening, the flames lighting up at times the oval ceiling of the caverns and our faces; we must look like bandits or Rob Roy’s boys: _A Lance-Corporal of the London Scottish_. On and Off