ose in charge. It was pleasant to re-visit St. Omer. The quaint
old French town, with its rambling streets and polite inhabitants,
took one away from the thoughts of war and gave one almost a feeling
of home. In the smoking-room at night, we had the opportunity of
discussing with one another the various moral and religious problems
with which the chaplain had to contend, and many were the interesting
experiences of those chaplains. On the last day of our meetings, at
the early Eucharist, we had an address from the Archbishop of York,
who had just come over to France. Later on, he gave an address at a
general meeting of the chaplains at Bethune.

While at St. Omer I paid a visit to the Second Army School in their
magnificent buildings in Wisques, where I saw the room that my son had
occupied, and met some of the people who remembered him. The place was
used as a training school for officers and was most wonderfully equipped.
The building was a modern convent, and the large unfinished chapel, with
its high vaulted roof, was used as a dining-room. It was inspiring at
dinner to see the hundreds of young officers, all so keen and cheery,
sitting round the tables, while a good band played during the meal. It
was hard to realize that they were only having a momentary respite
from the war, and, in a week or two, would be once more up in the line
facing wounds and death. The Commandant took great pride in the (p. 191)
institution, and told me of the splendid records of the men who had
passed through his hands.

Our Divisional Headquarters now moved to a place called Bracquemont,
near Noeux les Mines. Here I had a very fine room in the house of the
manager of one of the Mines, the offices of which were on the other
side of the road. The house was well built, and had a most charming
garden at the back. It was large and commodious, and I always feared
that my billet would attract the covetous desires of some high staff
officer and that I should be thrown out to make way for him. My room
was on the ground floor with two large windows opening on the street,
enabling me to get the Daily Mail from the newsboy in the morning. The
ceiling was high and the furniture most sumptuous. A large mirror
stood upon the marble mantel-piece. I had linen sheets on the bed and
an electric light at my side. It did not seem at all like war, but the
end of the mahogany bed and some of the chairs, also one corner of the
ceiling, had been perforated b