g in rain barrels up to their necks in water. It is needless to
add they consider it a grave infringement of their personal liberty
and think that they should be allowed to remain in the open and
see all that goes on, just as the little Londoners beg and coax to
be allowed to stay up "to see the Zepps."

Passing the railway station we stopped to make some enquiries,
and promptly ascertained all we wished to know from the Chef de
Gare. In the days of peace there is in France no one more
officious than the station master of a small but prosperous village.
Now he is the meekest of men. Braided cap in hand he goes along
the train from carriage door to carriage door humbly requesting
newspapers for the wounded in the local hospitals: "Nous avons
cent vingt cinq blesses ici, cela les fait tant de plaisir d'avoir des
nouvelles." (We have 125 wounded here and they love to hear the
news.)

In addition to levying a toll on printed matter, he casts a covetous
and meaning glance on any fruit or chocolate that may be visible.
Before the train is out of the station, you can see the once busy,
and in his own opinion, all-important railway official, vanishing
down the road to carry his spoils to his suffering comrades.
Railway travelling is indeed expensive in France. No matter what
time of day or night, wet or fine, the trains are met at each station
by devoted women who extract contributions for the Red Cross
Funds from the pockets of willing givers. It is only fair to state,
however, that in most instances the station master gets there first.

At The Headquarters Of General Petain

From the time we left Revigny until we had passed into the
Champagne country, upon the return journey from Verdun, we no
longer saw a green tree or a blade of green grass; we were now
indeed upon the "White Road which leads unto Verdun." Owing to
an exceptionally trying and dry summer the roads are thick with
white dust. The continual passing of the camions, the splendid
transport wagons of the French Army, carrying either food,
munitions, or troops, has stirred up the dust and coated the fields,
trees and hedges with a thick layer of white. It is almost as painful
to the eyes as the snow-fields of the Alps.

I saw one horse that looked exactly like a plaster statuette. His
master had scrubbed him down, but before he dried the white dust
had settled on him everywhere. Naturally humans do not escape.
By the time our party reached the Headq