while another bade farewell to Leicester Square in a high falsetto. The
giggling Towers caught the idea instantly, and a confused medley of
hymns, music-hall ditties, and patriotic songs in every key, from the
deepest bellowing bass to the shrillest wailing treble, arose from the
Towers' ranks, mixed with whistles and cat-calls and Corporal
Flannigan's famous imitation of "Life on a Farm." The joke lasted the
Towers for the rest of that march, and as sure as any Frenchman met or
overtook them on the road he was treated to a vocal entertainment that
must have left him forever convinced of the rumored potency of British
rum.

By now word had passed round the Towers that they were to take over a
portion of the trenches hitherto occupied by the French. Many were the
doubts, and many were the arguments, as to whether this would or would
not be to the personal advantage and comfort of themselves; but at
least it made a change of scene and surroundings from those they had
learned for months past, and since such a change is as the breath of
life to the British soldier, they were on the whole highly pleased with
it.

The morning was well advanced when they were met by guides and
interpreters from the French regiment which they were relieving, and
commenced to move into the new trenches. Although at first there were
some who were inclined to criticize, and reluctant to believe that a
Frenchman, or any other foreigner, could do or make anything better
than an Englishman, the Towers had to admit, even before they reached
the forward firing trench, that the work of making communication
trenches had been done in a manner beyond British praise. The trenches
were narrow and very deep, neatly paved throughout their length with
brick, spaced at regular intervals with sunk traps for draining off