.

When I went back to Amiens I saw a good bit of the Press. The "Major"
had gone, and Captain Hale of the Black Watch had charge. A fine
fellow, Hale, as brave as a lion. He told endless stories, which one
could hardly ever understand, and he laughed at them so much himself
that he usually forgot to finish them. Rudolf de Trafford was there,
and old Inge, a much-travelled man; also Macintosh, a Parisian Scot.
It was very peaceful; no one dreamt that shells were soon to come
crashing through that old chateau. Ernest Courage, with his eyeglass
fixed in his cap, used to come into Amiens and finish lunch with his
usual toast, and then sing Vesta Tilly's great old song:--

"Jolly good luck to the girl who loves a soldier. (p. 065)
Girls, have you been there?
You know we military men
Always do our duty everywhere!

"Jolly good luck to the girl who loves a soldier.
Real fine boys are we!
Girls, if you want to love a soldier
You can all (diddley-dum) love me!"

and very well he did it.

[Illustration: XXVII. _Poilu and Tommy._]

General Seely asked Maude and myself to dine one night at the "Rhin."
Prince Antoine of Bourbon was there--he was Seely's A.D.C. During
dinner I arranged to go to the Canadian Cavalry H.Q. and paint Seely,
which I did, and had a most interesting time. Munnings was painting
Prince Antoine at this period, on horseback. He used to make the poor
Prince sit all day, circumnavigating the chateau as the sun went
round. I remember going out one morning and seeing the Prince sitting
upon his horse, as good as gold. Munnings was chewing a straw when I
came up to them. "Here," said he. "You're just the fellow I want. What
colour is that reflected light under the horse's belly?" "Very warm
yellow," said I. "There! I told you so," said he to the Prince.
Apparently there had been some argument over the matter. Anyway, he
mixed a full brush of warm yellow and laid it on. Just before lunch I
came out again. There they were in another spot. "Hey!" said Munnings,
"come here. What colour is the reflection now?" "Bright violet," said
I. "There! what did I tell you?" said he to the Prince; and he mixed a
brush-load of bright violet, and laid it on.

As the sun was sinking I went out again, and there was the poor
Prince, still in the saddle. Munnings had nearly as much paint on (p. 066)
himself as on the canvas. He was very excited. I could see him
gesticulating from a distan