e more alarming.

The first was apt to exhibit its contempt for danger by strolling about
in perilous places for five minutes and leaving them to be shelled in
consequence for a week.

The second sort was apt to issue orders depending for fulfilment on a
faulty map reference or a landmark which had been carelessly removed by
an H.E. shell. One of the most _intransigeant_ of this kind whom I
remember could always, however, be softened by souvenirs; a cast-off
Uhlan's lance or the rifle of a Bosch sniper went far to console him for
the barrenness of a patrol report. I feel sure he must have faded at
Slough.

But it was in battle that their wild appetite for information was most
amazingly displayed. At moments when nobody knew where anybody else was
or whether the ground underneath him was likely to remain in that sector
more than a few moments or be detached and transferred to another, they
would send by telephone or by a runner wild messages for an exact
_resume_ of the situation. It was at such times, I think, that some of
those eminent war correspondents recently knighted would have done
yeoman service in the front line. I can imagine them telephoning
somewhat after this manner, in answer to the querulous voice:--

"All hell has broken loose in front of us. The earth
shivers as if a volcano is beneath our feet. The
pock-marked ridges in the distance are covered with the
advancing waves of field-grey forms. Our boys are going
up happily shouting and singing to the battle. Sorry, I
didn't quite catch what you said about being in touch on
the right. The brazen roar of the cannon is mingled with
the intermittent rattle of innumerable machine guns. Eh,
what? What?"

Yes, I think the Brigadiers would have liked that. But, alas, it could
not be. And now they have gone, with their passion for questions, never
to return, or never till the next A.C.I. cancels the last.

"And now no sacred staff shall break to blossom,
No choral salutation lure to light,"

as SWINBURNE put it; or

"All the birds of the air fell a-sighin' and a-sobbin'
When they heard of the death of poor Cock Robin,"

as No. 1 platoon of A Company used to sing. Ah, well.

EVOE.

* * * * *

A COUNTRY NIGHT PIECE.

THE darkness my footsteps were swathed in
Is drenched with a luminous spray;
For a chain's length the kerbstone is bathed in
A spindrift of sil