ges. If work were slack and the Signal Sergeant
were kind, he would give one of us a bunch of messages for the corps,
with the hint that the return might be made at leisure. Between Hinges
and Beuvry lay Bethune. Hinges deserves a word.

When first the corps came to Hinges, the inhabitants were exalted. The
small boys came out in puttees and the women put ribbons in their hair.
Now, if you pronounce Hinges in the French fashion, you give forth an
exclamation of distressful pain. The name cannot be shouted from a
motor-cycle. It has its difficulties even for the student of French. So
we all called it, plainly and bluntly, Hinges, as though it were
connected to a door. The inhabitants noticed this. Thinking that they
and their forefathers had been wrong--for surely these fine men with red
hats knew better than they--the English pronunciation spread. The
village became 'Ingees, and now only some unfashionable dotards in
Bethune preserve the tradition of the old pronunciation. It is not only
Hinges that has been thus decently attired in British garb. Le Cateau is
Lee Catoo. Boescheppe is Bo-peep. Ouderdon is Eiderdown.

Bethune was full of simple pleasures. First there were the public baths,
cheap and good, and sundry coiffeurs who were much in demand, for they
made you smell sweetly. Then there was a little blue and white cafe. The
daughter of the house was well-favoured and played the piano with some
skill. One of us spent all his spare time at this cafe in silent
adoration--of the piano, for his French was exiguous in the extreme.
There was a patisserie crammed full of the most delicious cream-cakes.
The despatch rider who went to Hinges about 3.30 P.M. and did not return
with cakes for tea, found life unpleasant. Near the station three
damsels ruled a tavern. They were friendly and eager to teach us French.
We might have left them with a sigh of regret if we had not once arrived
as they were eating their midday meal.

At one time the Germans dropped a few shells into Bethune, but did
little damage. Bombs fell too. One nearly ended the existence of
"Sadders"--also known as "Boo." It dropped on the other side of the
street; doing our despatch rider no damage, it slightly wounded Sergeant
Croucher of the Cyclists in a portion of his body that made him swear
when he was classed as a "sitting-up case."

Of all the towns behind the lines--Bethune, Estaires, Armentieres,
Bailleul, Poperinghe--Bethune is the pleasantest. The