Frequently the guide is young and enthusiastic, apt to let his confidence outstrip his local knowledge. A representative of this type volunteered to take one of us to a place from whence he declared we could see a particular point that puzzled us. The two set out smiling, and promptly entangled themselves in a maze of unfamiliar trenches. The guide declared he knew every inch of them, and for many hours as it seemed the two wandered in and out, like trippers in the maze at Hampton Court. At last they reached the ruins of a farmhouse. "If you climb up there you can see all right," said the guide. The unwary pilgrim did so, and found himself, outlined against the evening sky, gazing at the German trenches not thirty yards away. My friend is the soul of discretion, he hurled himself rather than jumped into the security of the trench, followed by a _rafale_ of machine-gun and rifle fire. Nor was he mollified by the words of a choleric and indignant infantry major, who came up and wanted to know what the devil he meant by acting like an infernal clown and drawing fire on his trench--I soften his epithets. There was a marked coolness between the three for many days to come. More harrowing still is the whispered legend of two adventurous spirits who, in the early days of the war, when the armies were not, as now, divided by an unbroken line of trenches, set out to seek for some commanding position from which to survey the surrounding country. At dusk they found a piece of rising ground, that seemed to promise the fulfilment of all their hopes. Seeing a group of men at work upon it, they strolled up to them and enquired whether it were possible to observe the Germans from there. "I know of but one place more suitable, gentlemen, and that is Berlin," was the reply, and in a very short time they were on their way thither. They had chanced upon the headquarters of a German division!