inscription worthy of classical times:

"The proprietor of this house has gone to the war. He leaves this
dwelling to the care of the French. Long live France." And he left the
key in the lock.

The soldiers billeted in the house read the inscription, which met with
their approval, and so far each regiment in passing had cleaned out the
little dwelling and left it in perfect order.

From the citadel we went down into the trenches which led to the lines
at Thiaumont. The heat in the city was excessive, but in the trenches it
was delightfully cool, perhaps a little too cool. We heard the men make
no complaints except that at times the life was a little "monotonous"!
One man told me that he was once in a trench that was occupied at the
same time by the French and the Germans. There was nothing between them
but sandbags and a thick wall of clay, and day and night the French
watched that wall. One day a slight scratching was heard. The men
prepared to face the crumbling of the barrier when through a small hole
popped out the head of a brown rabbit. Down into the trench hopped Mrs.
Bunny, followed by two small bunnies, and although rabbit for lunch
would have improved the menu, the men had not the heart to kill her. On
the contrary, they fed her on their rations, and at night-fall she
departed, followed by her progeny.

From all the dug-outs heads popped out, and the first movement of
surprise at seeing a woman in the trenches turned to a smile of delight,
since the _poilu_ is at all times a chivalrous gentleman. One man was
telling me of the magnificent work that had been accomplished by his
"compagnie." I congratulated him and told him he must be happy to be in