He informed me that he had been stationed for some time with his
regiment near the English troops, and there had been loud
lamentations among the Poilus because they had been obliged to
say good-bye to their English comrades. He added that the
affection was not entirely disinterested. The English comrades had
excellent marmalade and jam and other good things which they
shared with their French brothers, who, whilst excellently fed, do
not indulge in these luxuries. He told me a delightful tale of a
French cook who, seeing an English soldier standing by, began to
question him as to his particular branch of the service, informing
him that he himself had had an exceedingly busy morning peeling
potatoes and cleaning up the pots and pans. After considerable
conversation he inquired of the English comrade what he did for
his living. "Oh," replied the Englishman, "I get my living fairly easily;
nothing half so strenuous as peeling potatoes. I am just a
colonel."!!

The clean-shaven Tommy is the beloved of all France. I remember
seeing one gallant khaki knight carrying the market basket of a
French maiden and repaying himself out of her store of apples. I
regret to say his pockets bulged suspiciously. Whilst at a level
crossing near by, the old lady in charge of the gate had an escort
of "Tommies" who urged her to let the train "rip." This was
somewhat ironical in view of the fact that the top speed in that part
of the war zone was probably never more than ten miles an hour.

Tommy is never alone The children have learned that he loves
their company and he is always surrounded by an escort of
youthful admirers. The children like to rummage in his pockets for
souvenirs: he must spend quite a good deal of his pay purchasing