Passing through one tent hospital an Algerian called out to me: "Ohe, la blonde, viens ici! J'ai quelque chose de beau a te montrer." (Come here, fair girl, I have something pretty to show you.) He was sitting up in bed, and, as I approached, unbuttoned his bed-jacket and insisted on my examining the tag of his vest on which was written, "Leader, London." The vest had come in a parcel of goods from the London Committee of the French Red Cross, and I only wished that the angel of goodness and tenderness, who is the Presidente of the Croix Rouge, Mme. de la Panouse, and that Mr. D. H. Illingworth, Mr. Philip Wilkins, and all her able lieutenants, could have seen the pleasure on the face of this swarthy defender of France. In the next bed was a Senegalais who endeavoured to attract my attention by keeping up a running compliment to my compatriots, my King, and myself. He must have chanted fifty times: "Vive les English, Georges, et toil" He continued even after I had rewarded him with some cigarettes. The Senegalais and the Algerians are really great children, especially when they are wounded. I have seen convalescent Senegalais and Algerians in Paris spend hours in the Champs Elysees watching the entertainment at the open-air marionette theatre. The antics of the dolls kept them amused. They are admitted to the enclosure free, and there is no longer any room for the children who frequented the show in happier days. These latter form a disconsolate circle on the outside, whilst the younger ones, who do not suffer from colour prejudice, scramble onto the knees of the black soldiers. The sister in charge was a true daughter of the "Lady of the Lamp." Provided they are really ill, she sympathises with all the grumblers, but scolds them if they have reached the convalescent stage. She carries a small book in which she enters imaginary good points to those who have the tables by their beds tidy, and she pinned an invisible medal on the chest of a convalescent who was helping to carry trays of food to his comrades. She is indeed a General, saving men for France. Not a man escaped her attention, and as we passed through the tents she gave to each of her "chers enfants," black or white, a cheering smile or a kindly word. She did, however, whilst talking to us, omit to salute a Senegalais. Before she passed out of the tent he commenced to call after her, "Toi pas gentille aujourd'hui, moi battre toi." (You are not good to me to-day; me beat you.) This, it appears, is his little joke--he will never beat any one again, since he lost both his arms when his trench was blown up by a land mine. It was at Triancourt that I first saw in operation the motor-cars that had been sent out fitted with bath tubs for the troops, and also a very fine car fitted up by the London Committee of the French Red Cross as a moving dental hospital.