cept them when I asked if the blankets
were "crummy". The men burst out laughing. "You bet your life they
are, Sir," they cried. "Well, boys," I said, "I think that I prefer to
spend the night walking about the village and trying to compose a
poem." Once more I made my way down the dark street, examining closely
every door and window. At last I found a crack of light which came
from one of the houses. I knocked at the door and it was opened by an
officer from Quebec, who had been engaged with some others in a quiet
game of cards. He was amused at my homeless condition and kindly took
me in and gave me a comfortable bed in his own room. On the next (p. 043)
morning of course I was "ragged" tremendously on my disappearance during
the night.

The next day we marched off to the village of Sailly-sur-Lys, which
was to become our rear headquarters during our occupation of the
trenches. The little place had been damaged by shells, but every
available house was occupied. Our battalion moved up the country road
and was dispersed among the farm houses and barns in the
neighbourhood.

I made my home with some officers in a small and dirty farm house. The
novelty of the situation, however, gave it a certain charm for the
time. We were crowded into two or three little rooms and lay on piles
of straw. We were short of rations, but each officer contributed
something from his private store. I had a few articles of tinned food
with me and they proved to be of use. From that moment I determined
never to be without a tin of bully beef in my haversack, and I formed
the bully beef habit in the trenches which lasted till the end and
always amused the men. The general cesspool and manure heap of the
farm was, as usual, in the midst of the buildings, and was
particularly unsavoury. A cow waded through it and the family hens
fattened on it. Opposite our window in one of the buildings dwelt an
enormous sow with a large litter of young ones. When any of the ladies
of the family went to throw refuse on the manure heap, the old sow,
driven by the pangs of hunger, would stand on her hind legs and poke
her huge face out over the half door of her prison appealing in pig
language for some of the discarded dainties. Often nothing would stop
her squeals but a smart slap on her fat cheeks by the lady's tender
hand. In the hayloft of the barn the men were quartered. Their candles
made the place an exceedingly dangerous abode. There was only one
small