he arrangements and weather were
perfect, and the spectators were delighted with a performance that
surpassed Buffalo Bill's Wild West show. Afternoon tea and dancing
followed at a chateau, and aeroplanes gave us a fine exhibition of the
skill of the new branch of the service by flying low and dropping
messages and red smoke bombs. I met one of the young airmen, and in a
fit of enthusiasm asked him if he would take me up with him some day.
He was quite keen about it, and asked me to let him know when to (p. 256)
send for me. Our plans, however, were upset a day or two afterwards by
the Headquarters of the Division moving off to the beautiful Chateau
at Villers Chatel. They left in the morning, and as usual I followed
leisurely on Dandy. I went through some pretty villages. No soldiers
were to be seen, and the quiet ordinary life of the people was
undisturbed by the war. The world was bathed in sunshine and the
fields were brilliant with new crops. Every little hamlet was
embowered in trees, and the small white houses with their red tiled
roofs spoke of peace. In the solemn light of evening I came to the
entrance gate of my new home.

The Chateau of Villers Chatel was a fine modern building with an old
round tower at one end. This tower is all that remains of the original
structure, but it was kept in good condition and the interior was most
artistically arranged. My room was in the garret and was approached by
a spiral staircase, very narrow and steep. The Chateau was enlivened
by the presence of two Countesses; both very pleasant ladies who had
their own apartments and who kindly entertained us at night in their
cheery drawing-room. On the wide lawn in front of the Chateau a huge
chestnut tree stood, rich in leaves, with low boughs branching in all
directions and covering a wide radius, and with their tips almost
touching the grass. The tree furnished a green shelter for a large
number of persons. The sun could not penetrate the foliage, and the
giant trunk was covered with rugged bark beautifully coloured. Here,
on Sunday mornings, I placed my flag-covered altar, and Church Parade
was held under the tree. The men, over a hundred in number, stood in a
semi-circle in front of me, and the bright sunlight beyond the rim of
overhanging boughs lit up the green grass around. It was one of the
most beautiful places imaginable for a church service, and the
branches made a vaulted roof overhead. On one side of the garden was