on the other side, Wales came into
sight. The day has become brighter and brighter. Continually we pass
little steamers. There is the thrill of approaching land. We do not
know where we are going. Such a delightful, irresponsible sensation! I
know just how a boy must feel in the army.

New Year's Day, 1919.

Here I am, writing like any soldier at a Y.M.C.A. canteen in
Liverpool. There are four of us crowded round one little table in a
large, bare, smoky room. The place is buzzing with soldiers, a game of
billiards is going on in one corner and in another a graphophone is
never allowed one moment's rest.

You would laugh, (or perhaps you wouldn't!) if you could see me
camping out in the wilds of England. Sunday night when we were all at
dinner on the "Caronia" the engines suddenly stopped throbbing, and
when we went up on deck there were the lights of Liverpool on either
side of us, a sky full of stars above, and little lighted steamers
scudding about. We were to ride at anchor in the harbor all night. A
tug brought the Alien Officer on board, and each one of us and our
passports had to undergo his scrutiny. It was a tedious business, and
as I did not come till near the end of the alphabet he didn't get
around to me till after midnight. One thing I have learned already is
the immense advantage of belonging to the first of the alphabet. Your
future is made or marred by your initial.

Monday we were up at five thirty, and finally, after interminable
bustle and waiting and crowding, we and our luggage were through the
customs. The Y.M.C.A. here weren't expecting us, and were rather
overwhelmed at the prospect of housing us. They got accommodations for
the first thirty (of the alphabet) at a good hotel. The remaining
sixty-five were sent to a Y.M.C.A. hut called Lincoln Lodge, where one
floor of soldiers' barracks was turned over to us. Imagine a huge
chill room with brick walls, containing four hundred double-decker
beds and nothing else. The atmosphere was like a tightly bottled and
preserved London fog. It was raining outside. On each bed was a
burlap-hay mattress and a coarse blanket. After lunch downstairs I
fixed myself up in my own blankets with my fur coat on top, got very
comfortable and had a three hours' rest. Every night I ever spent on
the rocky ground at our Mountain Lake stood me in good stead, and I
didn't mind my lumpy, "rolly" mattress a bit, but it has been hard