d divided into
two by green canvas curtains, it was quite artistic and very
comfortable. Opposite the Chateau we had a large French hut which was
arranged as a cinema. The band of the 3rd Battalion was stationed in
town and gave us a concert every evening, also playing at our services
on Sundays. After the concert was over I used to announce a "rum
issue" at half-past nine in the building. The men knew what it meant,
and a good number would stay behind. Then I would give them a talk on
temperance, astronomy, literature or any subject about which I thought
my audience knew less than I. We generally finished up by singing some
well-known evening hymn. Very pleasant were the entertainments we had
in that old cinema. One night, before a battalion was going up to the
line, I proposed we should have a dance. The band furnished the music,
and the men had one of the most enjoyable evenings they had ever had.
Camblain l'Abbe was not a large place, so we were cramped for room,
and a Nissen hut had to be built for "C" mess.

My little friend Philo had been stolen on our march, so his place was
taken now by a brindle bull terrier which had been born in Albert. I
called her "Alberta" and as time went on she became a well-known
figure in the First Division. She often accompanied me on my walks to
the trenches, and one day was out in No Man's Land when a minnenwerfer
burst. Alberta did not wait for the bits to come down, but made one
dive into the trench, to the amusement of the men, who said she knew
the use of the trenches. She was my constant companion till her
untimely end in 1918.

The country round about Camblain l'Abbe was very peaceful and pretty,
and the road to the left from the Chateau gave one a fine view of the
towers of Mont St. Eloi, which were not then damaged by shells. The
two towers and the front wall of the old abbey were a striking (p. 150)
object against the horizon, and could be seen for miles around. They
made a beautiful picture in the distance when seen at sunset from the
trenches beyond Arras. Those two towers must stand out in the foreground
of all the memories which Canadians have of that region which was so
long their war-home. As far as I could learn, Mont St. Eloi had been
the site of an old monastery which had been destroyed in the French
Revolution, the towers and the walls of the church alone surviving.
The farms of the monastery had passed to secular ownership, but were
rich and well cultivate