tal, an Algerian called out to me:

"Ohe, la blonde, viens ici! J'ai quelque chose de beau a te montrer"
("Come here, fair girl, I have something pretty to show you").

He was sitting up in bed, and, as I approached, unbuttoned his
bed-jacket and insisted on my examining the tag of his vest, on which
was written, "Leader, London." The vest had come in a parcel of goods
from the London Committee of the French Red Cross, and I only wished
that the angel of goodness and tenderness who is the Presidente of the
Croix Rouge, Mme. de la Panouse, and that Mr. D.H. Illingworth, Mr.
Philip Wilkins, and all her able lieutenants, could have seen the
pleasure on the face of this swarthy defender of France. In the next bed
was a Senegalais who endeavoured to attract my attention by keeping up a
running compliment to my compatriots, my King, and myself. He must have
chanted fifty times: "Vive les English, Georges, et toi!" He continued
even after I had rewarded him with some cigarettes. The Senegalais and
the Algerians are really great children, especially when they are
wounded. I have seen convalescent Senegalais and Algerians in Paris
spend hours in the Champs Elysees watching the entertainment at the
open-air marionette theatre. The antics of the dolls kept them amused.
They are admitted to the enclosure free, and there is no longer any
room for the children who frequented the show in happier days. These
latter form a disconsolate circle on the outside, whilst the younger
ones, who do not suffer from colour prejudice, scramble on to the knees
of the black soldiers.

The sister in charge was a true daughter of the "Lady of the Lamp."
Provided they are really ill, she sympathises with all the grumblers,
but scolds them if they have reached the convalescent stage. She carries
a small book in which she enters imaginary good points to those who have
the tables by their beds tidy, and she pinned an invisible medal on the
chest of a convalescent who was helping to carry trays of food to his
comrades. She is indeed a General, saving men for France.

Not a man escaped her attention, and as we passed through the tents she
gave to each of her "chers enfants"--black or white--a cheering smile or
a kindly word. She did, however, whilst talking to us omit to salute a
Senegalais. Before she passed out of the tent he commenced to call after
her, "Toi pas gentille aujourd'hui--moi battre toi" ("You are not good
to me to-day--me beat you"). This,