ll opportunity to waste time on physical
sensations. On this trip there is little interruption, thank goodness.
Archie falls short of his average shooting, and we are able to outpace a
group of some twelve Hun two-seaters that try to intercept us. The
movement below is noted, the round is completed according to programme,
and we turn westward and homeward.

Have you ever sucked bull's-eyes, respected sir or madame? If not, take
it from me that the best time to try them is towards the end of a
three-hour flight over enemy country. Five bull's-eyes are then far more
enjoyable than a five-course meal at the Grand Babylon Hotel. One of
these striped vulgarities both soothes and warms me as we re-cross the
trenches.

Down go the noses of our craft, and we lose height as the leader, with
an uneven, tree-bordered road as guide, makes for Doulens. From this
town our aerodrome shows up plainly towards the south-west. Soon we
shall be in the mess marquee, behind us a completed job, before us a hot
breakfast. Life is good.

Arrived on land we are met by mechanics, each of whom asks anxiously if
his particular bus or engine has behaved well. The observers write their
reports, which I take to the Brass Hats at headquarters. This done, I
enter the orchard, splash about in a canvas bath, and so to a contented
breakfast.

Next you will find most of the squadron officers at the aerodrome,
seated in deck-chairs and warmed by an early autumn sun. It is the most
important moment of the day--the post has just arrived. All letters
except the one from His Majesty's impatient Surveyor of Taxes, who
threatens to take proceedings "in the district in which you reside," are
read and re-read, from "My dearest Bill" to "Yours as ever." Every scrap
of news from home has tremendous value. Winkle, the dinky Persian with a
penchant for night life, has presented the family with five kittens.
Splendid! Lady X., who is, you know, the bosom friend of a certain
Minister's wife, says the war will be over by next summer at the
_latest_. Splendid again! Life is better than good, it is amusing.

Yesterday's London papers have been delivered with the letters. These
also are devoured, from light leaders on electoral reform to the serious
legends underneath photographs of the Lady Helen Toutechose, Mrs.
Alexander Innit, and Miss Margot Rheingold as part-time nurses,
canteeners, munitioners, flag-sellers, charity matinee programme
sellers, tableaux vivants, an