composing General
H----'s staff. And, as things turned out, we did not require the
white-paper sandwiches, for we were at once invited to luncheon.

"Not a very elaborate luncheon," said General H----, "but it will give
us a great deal of pleasure to share it."

While the extra places were being laid we went to the brow of the
hill. Across the valley at the foot of a wooded ridge were the British
trenches. The ground rose in front of them, thickly covered with
trees, to the German position on the ridge.

"It looks from here like a very uncomfortable position," I said. "The
German position is better, isn't it?"

"It is," said General H---- grimly. "But we shall take that hill
before long."

I am not sure, and my many maps do not say, but there is little doubt
in my mind that the hill in question is the now celebrated Hill 60, of
which so much has been published.

As we looked across shells were bursting round the church tower of
Messines, and the batteries beneath were sending out ear-splitting
crashes of noise. Ypres, less than three miles away, but partly hidden
in mist, was echoing the bombardment. And to complete the pandemonium
of sound, as we turned, a _mitrailleuse_ in the windmill opened fire
behind us.

"Practice!" said General H---- as I started. "It is noisy here, I'm
afraid."

We went through the muddy farmyard back to the house. The staff was
waiting and we sat down at once to luncheon at a tiny pine table drawn
up before a window. It was not a good luncheon. The French wine was
like vinegar, the food the ordinary food of the peasant whose house it
was. But it was a cheerful meal in spite of the food, and in spite of
a boil on General H----'s neck. The marvel of a woman being there
seemed to grow, not diminish, as the meal went on.

"Next week," said General H----, "we are to have two parties of
correspondents here. The penny papers come first, and later on the
ha'pennies!"

That brought the conversation, as usual, to the feeling about the war
in America. Like all the other officers I had met, these men were
anxious to have things correctly reported in America, being satisfied
that the true story of the war would undoubtedly influence any
wavering of public opinion in favour of the Allies.

One of the officers was a Canadian, and for his benefit somebody told
the following story, possibly by now familiar to America.

Some of the Canadian troops took with them to England a bit of the
dash and