The study of nomenclature at the front is a very fascinating one, if only for the light that it throws upon the psychology of nostalgia. Every road, every communication trench is christened with some name around which hang the memories of the men who gave it, so that the native origins of these shrewd godfathers is never for a moment in doubt. Who but a native-born Londoner would have evolved a Harrow Road, off which, in an orgy of local geography, branch Edgware Road, Finchley Road, Maida Vale and a dozen other familiar names? Who but a young subaltern--his heart still unforgetful of the old _joie de vivre_, having established an O.P. at the end of a muddy ditch already known as Burlington Arcade, would have proudly labelled it "The Bristol," or who, but his envious friends near Shaftesbury Avenue, would have emulated him with "Maxime's" and "The Villa-villa"! Moray Avenue, Prince's Street, Deansgate, Dale Street, College Green, all tell their own story. And where association ends, description begins. Stink Farm, is, I believe, now marked as such on the official maps. Quality Street has already a place in history that may one day be shared by Mud Cottage, Canadian Orchard, la Maison des Mitrailleurs, Rue d'Enfer, and Le Tirebouchon. Sometimes the names of places have been anglicized almost out of recognition. Wingles and Hinges are pronounced as they appear to an English eye, Choques is Chokes, Gris Pot is Grease Pot, Lozinghem is Lozenges, to quote a very few examples. The same may be found on the German side. The Hohenzollern Redoubt is familiar by name to everybody. Near it is Breslauer Chausée Loos contained Unter den Linden, Friedrichstrasse, and, rather curiously, Ringstrasse; Vendin le Vieil is Alt-Vendin, Lens, Lenze. But this is yet another digression, the wandering thoughts of the idle observer; let us suppose him suddenly recalled to the affairs of the moment by the insistent voice of the telephone.