I regret to add that a "Poilu" near by disrespectfully referred to it as "another of the horrors of war," adding that in times of peace there was some kind of personal liberty, whereas now "a man could not have toothache without being forced to have it ended, and that there was no possibility of escaping a dentist who hunted you down by motor." It was suggested that as I had had a touch of toothache the night before, I might take my place in the chair and give an example of British pluck to the assembled "Poilus." I hastened to impress on the surgeon that I hated notoriety and would prefer to remain modestly in the background. I even pushed aside with scorn the proffered bribe of six "Boche," buttons, assuring the man that "I would keep my toothache as a souvenir." At one of the hospitals beside the bed of a dying man sat a little old man writing letters. They told me that before the war he had owned the most flourishing wine shop in the village. He had fled before the approach of the German troops, but later returned to his village and installed himself in the hospital as scribe. He wrote from morning until night, and, watching him stretching his lean old hands, I asked him if he suffered much pain from writers' cramp. He looked at me almost reproachfully before answering, "Mademoiselle, it is the least I can do for my country; besides my pain is so slight and that of the comrades so great. I am proud, indeed proud, that at sixty-seven years of age I am not useless." I was shown a copy of the last letter dictated by a young French officer, and I asked to be allowed to copy it--it was indeed a letter of a "chic" type. Chers Parrain et Marraine, Je vous ecris a vous pour ne pas tuer Maman qu'un pareil coup surprendrait trop. J'ai ete blesse le ... devant ... J'ai deux blessures hideuses et je n'en aurai pas pour bien longtemps. Les majors ne me le cachent meme pas. Je pars sans regret avec la conscience d'avoir fait mon devoir. Prevenez done mes parents le mieux que vous pourrez; qu'ils ne cherchent pas a venir, ils n'en auraient pas le temps. Adieu vous tous que j'aimais. VIVE LA FRANCE! Dear Godfather and Godmother, I am writing to you so as not to kill Mother, whom such a shock would surprise too much. I was wounded on the ... at ... I have two terrible wounds and I cannot last long. The surgeons do not even attempt to conceal this from me. I go without regret, with the consciousness of having done my duty. Kindly break the news to my parents the best way you can; they should not attempt to come because they would not have time to reach me before the end. Farewell to all you whom I have loved. LONG LIVE FRANCE! Whilst loving his relatives tenderly, the last thought of the dying Frenchman is for his country. Each one dies as a hero, yet not one realises it. It would be impossible to show greater simplicity; they salute the flag for the last time and that is all. At General Nivelle's Headquarters