As I stood and watched the fascinating spectacle--I find there is no sight which holds the attention more than the play of bursting shells--I noticed two young officers ascending the road leading to the point where a group of Generals and Staff Officers was posted. The new-comers stalked up the steep path at a good pace, and as they passed I saw that the one who was leading was the Prince of Wales. He was in field kit, with long trousers and putties, after the manner of the Guards, and was wearing his accoutrements strapped on over his “British warm.” He appeared to be soaked through, and his walk through the steamy air had made him very hot. He saluted punctiliously as he passed the group of Generals, then took up his position with his companion and, unstrapping his glasses, began to survey the scene that unfolded itself in the valley. As darkness was falling I saw him again, walking along a road where soldiers were standing to, preparatory to marching away to take their turn in the trenches. As the men came running out of the roadside hovels where they had been billeted, hoisting their packs on their backs or tugging at their strappings, they recognized the Prince, who acknowledged their salutes with a smile. He stopped for a minute and talked to one or two of the men, then walked on through the gathering shadows to a neat little racing-car standing by the roadside, in which he was going to drive himself and his companion back to G.H.Q. For many months the Prince lived at G.H.Q. He shared quarters with Lieutenant-Colonel S. L. Barry and Lord Claud Hamilton, and was a member of the Commander-in-Chief’s mess. Colonel Barry, a distinguished cavalry officer and a delightful companion, arranges the details of the Prince’s plans at the front, and his visits to different parts of our lines and to the French and Belgian Armies; while in Lord Claud Hamilton, the youngest brother of the Duke of Abercorn, who won the D.S.O. for gallantry while serving with his regiment, the Grenadier Guards, in the trenches, the Prince has a comrade of his own age. With that gift of easy self-effacement which our Public Schools and ’Varsity inculcate, the Prince slipped without any apparent difficulty into his place in Sir John French’s small and intimate household at G.H.Q. All ceremonial was waived as far as the Prince was concerned, to his own great relief, and he was treated like any other officer of the personal Staff. Perfectly natural as he is, the Prince has small liking for the elaborations of Court etiquette in private life. He has shown that, at State functions, he can acquit himself with dignity, but excessive demonstrations of respect in private life embarrass him, for, first and last, he is English, as English in mind and manner as he is in appearance.