to him: "Captain, let me introduce my brother." There was another
Australian private whom an English officer objected to have sitting at
the same table with him at the Trocadero in London. Next day this
private reserved every seat in this swell restaurant and provided
dinner for several hundred of his chums, putting a notice on the door:
"No Officers Admitted." Another illustration of snobbishness, this
time in Australia, was when some officers at a race-meeting instructed
the committee to refuse admittance to the saddling paddock and grand
stand to all privates and N. C. O.'s, but they looked pretty small when
informed that the owner of the race-course was a private and could
hardly be debarred from his own property. Few Australian officers are
of this type, however, and in the trenches our officers and men are a
happy family. When the men realize that an officer knows his job and
has plenty of pluck, they will follow him through hell.

A favorite rendezvous in Cairo was the Ezbekiah Gardens of a Sunday
afternoon. There were beauties there from many nations, dressed in the
"dernier cri" of fashion, who were tickled to death to be escorted by
the bronzed giants from "down-under," and though one failed sometimes
to find words that were understood, yet sufficient was said in glance
and shrug to make a very interesting conversation. And the Sultan's
band was always there to fill in pauses and, in fact, played so well as
to be an encouragement to flirtations that were delightful in spite of
differences of nationality.

There was always plenty to see around Cairo, and the education of the
Australian bushman has been widened considerably through those months
in Egypt, though I am afraid some of us swallowed the yarns of the
guides and garnered a vast store of misinformation. These guides were
a set of blackmailers, but once you had engaged one he looked on you as