ore visible
bandages--were paraded for his inspection. He walked down the line,
followed by a couple of aides-de-camp, some French officers of high
rank, an English general, our C.O., and then the rest of us. Our band
played a tune which we hoped was his national anthem. He did not seem
to recognise it, so it may not have been the right tune though we had
done our best.

He stopped opposite an undersized boy in a Lancashire regiment who
had a bandage round his head and a nose blue with cold. The monarch
made a remark in his own language. He must have known several other
languages--all kings do--but he spoke his own. Perhaps kings have to,
in order to show patriotism. An aide-de-camp translated the remark
into French. An interpreter retranslated it into English. Somebody
repeated it to the Lancashire boy. I dare say he was gratified, but I
am sure he did not in the least agree with the king. What his Majesty
said was, "How splendid a thing to be wounded in this glorious war!"

It is easy to point a cheap moral to the tale. So kings find pleasure
in their peculiar sport. So boys who would much rather be watching
football matches at home suffer and are sad. _Delirant reges_.
_Plectuntur Achivi_.

It is all as old as the hills, and republicans may make the most of
it. Yet I think that that king meant what he said, and would have
felt the same if the bandage had been round his own head and he had
been wearing the uniform of a private soldier. There are a few men in
the world who really enjoy fighting, and that king--unless his face
utterly belies him--is one of them. Nothing, I imagine, except his
great age, kept him out of the battles which his subjects fought.

The Con. Camp deserved the reputation which brought us those flights
of distinguished visitors. I may set this down proudly without being
suspected of conceit, for I had nothing to do with making the camp
what it was. Success in a camp or a battalion depends first on three
men--the C.O., the adjutant, and the sergeant-major. We were
singularly fortunate in all three.

The next necessity is what the Americans call "team work." The whole
staff must pull together, each member of it knowing and trusting the
others. It was so in that camp. The result was fine, smooth-running
organisation. No emergency disturbed the working of the camp. No
sudden call found the staff unprepared or helpless. So much, I
think, any one visiting and inspecting the camp might have seen a