We wondered what this fresh ruse was, for ruse it certainly was, and a very palpable one. We did not stir, of course, and all was soon quiet again. The Artillery was not long quiet though, and the quantity of ammunition it consumed was considerable. The Germans bombard with unprecedented energy. The small calibre had almost disappeared and only the heavy guns were now doing their part. Mine-shells exploded with a noise like thunder. It was sheer madness, for the Boches were evidently firing without much observation, as, after placing the batteries, instead of firing in a way to destroy everything, they changed their target, fired at longer or shorter range, peppering the whole district, but not doing any great damage. When they have an idea though, they persist in it, so that when their idea was to attack one special point, they went on shooting with admirable persistency--even when there was nothing at the point at which they were aiming. A shell has just burst under one of our windows, breaking the panes and staining the Adjutant Major's papers with mud. Our roof is like a sieve at present. One or other of us is all the time at the telephone. The wires are broken constantly by the shells. The telephonists run along and the communication is set up again. Night and day, we hear the strident ring of the telephone bell. Some information arrives, or an order is given, one of the officers gets up, rushes off to the battery--and a telephonic message orders us to stop firing for the moment. When there is an important piece of information, everyone starts off. The dry, hoarse voice of our 75 mingles hurriedly with the dull rumblings in the distance, and with the formidable explosions of the projectiles that arrive. After this, all who have luck go to rest again, the privileged ones in any beds that are free, and the others on straw that is spread each night in the kitchen. For a whole week we have been installed on this farm. We have managed to find a few vegetables for our table, but meat is rare. The first day, we feasted on fowl, but now there are no more fowl. Then we had a pig killed. To-day, we have some tinned meat; to-morrow, I do not know what we shall have. Our greatest privation is the scarcity of cigarettes. We are reduced to making shapeless cigarettes with bad pipe tobacco. There is literally nothing to be had here. The water is so salty that we drink only coffee. Fortunately there is no shortage of milk. Our men go, in the early morning, and milk the wandering cattle which they find enjoying themselves in the beet-root fields. Not a single dog barks. They all go creeping along close to the buildings, with their tails between their legs, and at the first whizz of a shell they jump down wildly into any hole they happen to find. The projectiles have made a hecatomb of cattle on every side. All the famous meadows round Dixmude and Veurne-Ambacht are strewn with dead cows, lying on their back with their feet in the air. The game is