ht back in the show case. The clerks are mostly girls. They
are plainly dressed but always neat. Most of them wear black. They are
by no means as well dressed as American girls who work in stores. The
French store employes are very poorly paid, the average wage for a
clerk being two and a half francs, or about 50 cents in American money
a day.

During the war, Brest was very much of a cosmopolitan city. On the
streets most any day could be seen the uniforms of the soldiers and
sailors of all the Allied nations--French, British, Italian,
Portuguese, American and others. The uniforms of the different nations
are of different hues and they gave a tinge of color to the crowds on
the streets. They ranged from spotless white to faded blues. The
uniforms of the Italian soldiers, in my opinion, were the most
attractive. They were a pretty gray, well made and attractive in
design. The uniform of the American soldier, while not the prettiest,
is the most serviceable. For war use it is no doubt the best. The
British wear uniforms very much like ours, although a little different
in shade and design. They are serviceable and neat but not attractive.
The coat has a small lapel and large brass buttons that are always
well shined. The home guards of the French army wore flashy coats and
trousers. The trousers were either blue with a broad red stripe or red
with a blue stripe.

I regret that our brief stay in Brest did not give me a better
opportunity to see the mediaeval churches and castles in the vicinity.
But war is serious business with no time for sightseeing and on the
third night after our arrival, we received our orders to march at 4
o'clock the following morning. It was a restless night for we knew
that every day from now on would take us nearer to the front and to
the fight. At 3:30 o'clock on the morning of our departure we were all
up and dressed and were packing our belongings. We came to company
front promptly at 4 o'clock, just as the dawn was breaking; in a very
few minutes we were marching out of the historic Napoleon Barracks
never to see them again. The morning was cool and crisp; it was
conducive to lively marching and we stepped along at a fast clip,
passing three companies of infantry on the way to Brest. The march was
an eight mile "hike" and we made it without a stop until we reached
the railroad yards at Brest. We were then assigned to compartments in
French railroad coaches. Most of them were second and thir