he purple lilac, is not hot enough to make
marching uncomfortable. The road, a main route between two towns, is
paved with flat cobbles about the size of large bricks, and bordered
mile after mile with tall poplars. There are farms and hamlets and
villages strung close along the road, and round and about all these
houses are women and children, and many men in khaki, a few dogs, some
pigs perhaps, and near the farms plenty of poultry. By most of the
farms, too, are orchards and fruit-trees in blossom; and in some of
these lines of horses are ranked or wagons are parked, sheltered by the
trees from aerial observation. For all this, it must be remembered, is
far enough back from the firing line to be beyond the reach of any but
the longest-range guns--guns so big that they are not likely to waste
some tons of shells on the off-chance of hitting an encampment and
disabling few or many horses or wagons.

Towards noon the regiment swings off the road and halts in a large
orchard; rifles are stood aside, equipments and packs are thrown off,
tunics unbuttoned and flung open or off, and the men drop with puffing
sighs of satisfaction on the springy turf under the shade of the
fruit-trees. The 'travelling cookers' rumble up and huge cauldrons of
stew and potatoes are slung off, carried to the different companies,
and served steaming hot to the hungry men. A boon among boons these
same cookers, less so perhaps now that the warmer weather is here, but
a blessing beyond price in the bitter cold and constant wet of the past
winter, when a hot meal served without waiting kept heart in many men
and even life itself in some. Their fires were lit before the regiment
broke camp this morning, and the dinners have been jolting over the
long miles since sun-up, cooking as comfortably and well as they would
in the best-appointed camp or barrack cook-house.

The men eat mightily, then light their pipes and cigarettes and loll at
their ease. The trees are masses of clustering pink and white blossom,
the grass is carpeted thick with the white of fallen petals and
splashed with sunlight and shade. A few slow-moving clouds drift
lazily across the blue sky, the big, fat bees drone their sleepy song
amongst the blossoms, the birds rustle and twitter amongst the leaves
and flit from bough to bough. It would be hard to find a more peaceful
picture in any country steeped in the most profound peace. There is
not one jarring note--until the