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 sweets, so that they may
not be disappointed and that there may be something for his little
friends to find. I remember seeing one Tommy, sitting in the dusty road