in our own lines. Anyway, it does no damage, and the artillery enjoy their little joke all right. It has become almost second nature with them. Of course, the new batteries take some training—they lack humour. One battery let one Brigadier-General, one Colonel and a transport mule go past and each time forgot about loosing off a round. At the end of the cross country jaunt we came across the beginning of the works of the Cave-men. You may have seen some in England—they disguise themselves as earth and then dig long narrow holes and live in them. The Cave-men are strange creatures. We went up one of then funny long narrow burrows, and occasionally they let off a funny toy which cracked overhead. At length we came to the real caves where these men live. I noticed that they were very vain men and were continually looking into a sort of box thing, with a glass at the end, and admiring themselves therein, and then so intoxicated were they with the sight that they would put a stick to their shoulder and break forth into smoke and flame. The name of this people is the Tribe of Tommizi.

And I noticed their gods visited them. Speckless mortals, clothed in fine linen, wearing turbans or caps, as they call them, trimmed with red and gold, and so appalling was their aspect that the Cave-men were, as it were, turned to stone, and stood with their hand to their hats as if to guard against a blow, or to ward off the evil eye. And behold, a terrible dragon screamed across the sky, shouting out with hate and roaring as the thunder, and fell and burst itself asunder, and I fled, and the Cave-men laughed, for their gods in red were there and they feared not. I expect the above gives you a good picture of trench life. It is as given me by a friend of mine who visited these men—my own experiences were different.

My own experiences I will call "An Idyll of Spring" in blank verse, without the blanks and without the verse, and will be continued in our next.

We wandered up the communication trench and nosed all along the firing line, only 50 yards from the German trench—I thought it was topping. I had a good look, with a periscope, while a sniper vainly tried to hit it, and its owner became nervous of losing it. I enjoyed my visit very much. Wednesday: The Brigade Major came to see me, and told me that I am to command the Brigade Trench Mortar Battery, so I am now one of the working members of the Brigade Staff, though I don't wear a red hat. I was very pleased. He took me back to Brigade Headquarters for tea and dinner and I had a very good time. But, unfortunately, I had to come home in the dark. All the roads round here have ditches on either side. It was pitch dark, I did not know the road, and it was too dark to see the turnings oft. I missed my way and went miles. I hated it. I don't mind a German, but I don't like the dark. Thursday: We amused ourselves, and at 3-0 I went to see the Brigade Major of the Brigade, to which we were attached for instruction, and he sent us to the reserve billets, within a mile or so from the firing line, which they have a stupid habit of shelling. It keeps waking you up in the night. Then this morning we marched off and got two 'busses back to the place we were in two weeks ago, after our first move, well back about ten miles or so, to train the battery. It is a topping little village on a slight hill, and we have topping billets. Fiddian is with me at present. We have a room each, a feather bed with clean sheets and a nice little sitting room. The men are in a topping loft with plenty of straw and seem very happy. We are going to dinner with the Colonel of the 16th Royal Scots. I command the battery and have the powers of a Battalion Commander. I am absolutely on my own, no Company Commander, no Battalion Commander, only the Brigade can give me orders. Fiddian is second in command. We have four gun detachments. I hope the war goes on for ever as far as myself is concerned; at present I like it all, even including the trenches.

Much love to all, Mother dear,

From your loving Son,

ALEC.

P.S.—I have just received your letter dated January 30th. The reason some of my letters are dated differently inside from out is that I begin writing a new letter directly the old one goes off and they take some days to write, and also posting is often delayed. I am very busy organising the battery at present, and have a lot of work to do. I have just got my guns (4) to-night. The first place we were in was near St. Omer, and it was there we went to shop. I am allowed to tell you now—it is some time since we left there.

Please send me my Sam Browne belt as soon as possible. I am awfully sorry to hear that Father has been ill. Please give him my very best love as always, and tell him I do not write to him separately as my letters are always family affairs, and I cannot write more than one. Does anyone else see my letters? If you see the Aunts please give them my very best love too. Please thank Auntie Agnes for writing me such an interesting letter. It was awfully nice of her to write, and I will try to answer it. She asked if she could do anything for me—well, I don't want to trouble her, but if she really would like to, a cake sent any time she is making them would be very acceptable. You can get no cakes out here. Also I should like you to take my letters to the Aunts and Uncle Ted any time you go to see them, and read them any bits that may interest them. You have no idea, but I know you have, how I appreciate letters, especially the topping long one I have just received from you. My letters are very much delayed at present as I am detached from the battalion and being moved about. I have little time to complete letters before there is more news to tell.

Good-night, little Mother, give them all a good-night kiss from me. I hope Charlie is fit and well.

Much love to all,

From your loving Son,

ALEC.

11th Suffolks,

B.E.F., Monday, February 7th.

My darling Mother,—

I think my budget must be growing fast. Yesterday I spent in organising my battery. I got some green and white paint from the A.S.C. and painted all my guns, so that they look beautiful now. Most of my time nowadays I spend in trying to get money for myself and for my men, rifle oil, baths, boots mended, equipment for guns, and all sorts of things. This morning I took the whole battery in battery drill. Most of it's composed by myself, as there isn't a drill book for trench mortar batteries. It is very interesting, as I have to think out all my own tactics, and organisation. On every other, infantry or cavalry or artillery, there are thousands of War Office books, so that one needs to think very little for oneself.

We are just having dinner, Fiddian, Carroll, who is my second in command, and myself—quite a nice dinner—while our servants make merry in the kitchen. The house where I am billeted is owned by a topping old man. Whenever I pass through their kitchen they all get up and monsieur says: "Bon jour Monsieur L'Officier." He is a time-served French soldier, and works in a big wood just near here. We had a Taube—A German aeroplane—over here this morning. It dropped one bomb, which did not go off, a few hundred yards from here. I did not hear about it till afterwards. The battalion has just returned to-day from the trenches for a week or so before we return to them to take over part of the line. Where we are going is, I believe, a fairly nice peaceful spot. I shall try and stir them up if I have half a chance. What happens in trenches is: that if the Germans get nasty and shell us, or send a few bombs from trench mortars, we try to make ourselves nastier